


I Could Take the Back Road

by Hllangel



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: (one questionable present incident - see notes), 69 (Sex Position), Allusions to infidelity (past), Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Bottom Harry, Canon Compliant, Clique - Freeform, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Hand Jobs, M/M, Makeouts, lots of makeouts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-20 14:57:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 39,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2432945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hllangel/pseuds/Hllangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick and Harry aren't dating, except for how they have been since Harry was eighteen. </p><p>A future fic where Nick and Harry finally figure out what they are to each other, after far too many years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Could Take the Back Road

**Author's Note:**

> First, a thank you to my small army of cheerleaders, starting with Fiarra, who has been there since this was about 3K, and who has yelled at me to write pretty much every day for the last month. Also, everyone else who has read bits along the way and kept me going as this thing ate my life. Fullmessybun, blueandbrady, melia, sessahhh, flouidities, and probably more people that I'm forgetting. To everyone on my twitter feed that kept me going as the word count on this thing just kept climbing. This is the longest thing I've ever written.
> 
> To my beta, L who isn't even in this fandom and who had to ask me about Harry's four nipples, even though she's beta-ed for me in this fandom before, thank you, I love you. To Magog83 who britpicked for me, thank you so much. 
> 
> Title from Ed Sheeran's _Friends_.
> 
> This is a work of fiction based on the lives and likenesses of real people. If you are one of them and you're reading this, I'm so, so sorry. 
> 
> More notes about the tags, and references used while writing in the end notes.

Harry is in the middle of making a batch of pesto to freeze — his basil has massively overgrown this year — when his phone rings. He only knows because it's sitting on the counter next to the blender and catches his eye as he's drizzling olive oil in to get the right creamy consistency. Usually when he's cooking he tends to ignore his phone, because perfection can't be interrupted for any means, but when he sees the name on the screen he stops blending. It's only pesto anyway. It can sit a bit; it'll develop the flavors more. Or something. 

"Nicholas!" 

"Harold!" Nick says, sounding every bit as delighted as Harry is. They haven't spoken in ages. Well, about three weeks. "What are you up to?"

"Pesto," Harry tells him, hitting pulse on the blender to illustrate his point. He only does it for a second though, because it's very noisy and it means that he can't hear the phone. "You?" 

"Just got home," Nick tells him. His voice sounds a bit off, and Harry squints at the clock on the wall. It's nearly four in the morning back in London. 

"Bit late for you these days, isn't it?" He pauses and bites his lip. That'll be why Nick sounds odd then, voice rough and a bit slurred. Years of radio have given him the ability to keep up near perfect diction even when fully pissed. "Are you drunk?" 

Nick laughs, low and scratchy in Harry's ear. "I've had a few." 

"Should I call someone to look in on you then? I think I've got Aimee's number still. Or Gellz? What about Alexa, I know she's in town. Shouldn't she be with you?" 

"She's in the spare room. Asleep." Nick says the last in an overly loud stage whisper, as if he's afraid he'll wake her up. It's still basically a shout, since Nick's never got the hang of being quiet. "Aimee'll kill me if you wake her up." 

"What about James? Where's he? Shouldn't this be his job, or is off for work again?"

"Gone," Nick says, and falls silent. "He's gone." 

Harry frowns. He's missing something, he's sure of it. "When's he back then?"

"S'not coming back. He left. He's gone." 

"Oh, Nick." Harry goes through to his dining room and sits down. He had quite liked James. "That's why you're pissed, then." 

Nick hums a bit, and Harry narrows his eyes trying to make out the tune. It could be an old One Direction song. Or it could be the Swiss National Anthem. It's hard to tell, and Nick gets even more tone-deaf when he's been drinking. 

"You should have some water," Harry says. "I'll stay on the line whilst you get a glass. Can't have your old self getting a two day hangover now can we." 

"Nice advice from a washed up popstar like you," Nick says, but there's no heat in it. And Harry can hear the tap flip on, and off again, and then the noisy gulps of Nick drinking it. 

"I'll show you washed up," Harry says, smiling. He hopes Nick can hear it in his voice since they're not on a video call. 

There's silence for a few moments. "When are you back here?" 

"Don't know," Harry says. It's July now, and whilst he mostly leaves it to his PA to track his day to day schedule, he's got some shows coming up and he's fairly sure he's got a lot of meetings in the next few months for his own album and for some of the newer artists he's been producing. "November maybe? We're trying to finish up a bunch of recordings so they can be mastered for holiday releases." 

"Oh," Nick sounds disappointed, and Harry hates that. Hates making Nick sad, he always has. 

"You could come out here? Work on your tan by the pool." 

"I'll check with my PA," Nick says. 

That gets Harry laughing again. Nick has his own agents of course, but he's never had his own dedicated PA the way Harry has since he was eighteen. "Stop mocking me, you wanker." 

Nick puts on his high, nasal voice. "Stop mocking me!" 

"Heyyyyy." 

"Heyyyyy," Nick says in the same tone. 

"Go to bed, Nicholas. Take some paracetamol and call me tomorrow, yeah?" 

"Yeah, alright, Styles." 

"Not before tea, though. You're crap at timezones." He's sure Nick won't really be a functional person before mid-afternoon at the earliest. He's not gotten drunk enough to drunk-dial Harry in years. Or if he has, Harry hadn't know about it because James had been there to keep his phone away. Damn it, Harry had really liked him, he'd been good for Nick. They'd seemed so happy the last time Harry was in London, but that was months ago, for his birthday. 

"So are you," Nick says. 

"Easier when I'm in the same one for more than a day," Harry says gently. "Now go to sleep." 

Nick yawns down the line. It's noisy, and Harry suddenly misses him, the ache slamming into his chest and sitting there, making it a bit hard to breathe. He wants to reach through the line so that he can tuck Nick in himself. 

"Talk to you tomorrow Styles." 

"Goodnight, Grimmy." 

And that's it. Harry hangs up the line and looks down at the now-black screen of his phone for a minute. Nothing happens, though, and it's just the dark outline of his face looking back. He needs to finish making his pesto.

~*~ 

Harry goes through his usual routine in the morning. His alarm goes off at seven, and he rolls out of bed and downstairs to meet his trainer. It's a Tuesday which means a long morning run and then some yoga outside on the lawn. Normally, Harry leaves his phone at home, but today he slips it into his pocket and keeps pressing it to his thigh to be sure he'll feel it vibrate even if he misses the ringtone.

Aiden notices, because he's observant. Also because Harry's lagging way behind his usual pace, and not just because he'd eaten more pesto and chicken pasta than he should have last night. 

They take a water break at the top of one of the hills, and Harry fiddles with his hair to keep him from pulling out his phone, because that would just be rude. His hair is a lot shorter now, having chopped most of it off a few years ago, and doesn't provide the easy distraction it used to. 

"Are you okay?" 

Harry taps his phone again, very clearly not pulling out of his pocket, and shrugs. "Yeah." 

"You just seem distracted," Aiden says. He's a bit curious, has that look about him like he wants to ask, but he doesn't. 

Harry takes a drink of water and doesn't deny it. "Got a call from an old friend last night. Said he'd call back in the morning. Well, afternoon for him." 

Aiden gives him a sly grin. "An old friend, yeah?" 

Harry's been working with Aiden for nearly a year now, and Aiden's been pretty good about treating Harry like any other person, but ten years ago he'd been a fan, and occasionally it shows. Harry generally doesn't mind. "Nah, not them." He doesn't say more, though. For all that their early friendship had played out in the papers, these days Nick feels almost like a secret. He's pretty sure most people who don't know them both have forgotten that they even know each other. 

It's nice that way. 

"Something serious?" 

"Not really. He broke up with his boyfriend and got drunk and called me." There's so much more to it than that, but Harry's not really going to share that in the middle of the run. Or probably ever, with Aiden. He's a friend, but even though they see each other several times a week, he's not a close one. 

Years ago he would have been. Harry's still in touch with Mark, at least for holiday and birthday cards, but it was different back before Harry learned to separate his personal life from his business. Back then, there hadn't been a gap between the two at all because the work was neverending. 

"Time to go back, yeah?" Harry really doesn't want to have anyone over when Nick calls, so the sooner he can send Aiden away, the better. He makes sure not to touch his phone at all on the way back. 

Aiden agrees to skip the yoga, because Harry promises to do it on his own before the next time they meet. He probably won't, but he'll feel guilty about it later. Instead of showering, he strips off and dives into the pool, swimming a few lengths before laying out on one of his lounge chairs. He doesn't bother with a towel, and the mid-morning sun feels great on his naked skin. As much as he misses London some days, he's never regretted the decision to move out to California; and he really loves watching people discover that his tan doesn't end at all. 

By the time Nick calls, he feels like he's on the edge of a sunburn, so he takes his phone inside and lays out in his sunroom instead. 

"Hiya!" he answers, deliberately keeping his voice bright and cheerful just to annoy Nick. 

"Gnnnnngh," he gets in response. Harry just laughs and listens to Nick being miserable for a minute before lowering his tone. 

"You alright, Nick?" 

"No," Nick says, and Harry knows it's not just the hangover. 

Harry keeps his voice gentle now, and he almost feels uncomfortable being naked for this conversation. He's not against nudity in general, but Nick's a special case, especially when they're talking about Nick's boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. He has to resist the urge to cover himself up, even though there's no one here to see him. "Want to tell me what happened?" 

"He left." Harry can hear the shrug in Nick's voice. "We've been fighting for a few months, when he's been home. He's been traveling a lot for work and I forgot what that's like." 

Harry can't suppress a wince. He knows exactly how that particular fight goes. "I'm sorry." It's not just a sympathetic apology, Harry thinks. The idea isn't quite fully formed in his head, but he hates that Nick's gone through this whole thing again, and with a relationship that's lasted years. 

"I tried not to make him choose, his work's good and it's important to both of us. But he chose anyway." 

"Nick." 

"Don't do that, Hazza."

He can't even pretend to not know what Nick's talking about. They're both silent down the line, and then Nick lets out a big sigh. 

"He's been gone about three weeks, but we've been talking, trying to work things out." Nick sniffles and Harry grabs a blanket from the back of the sofa and throws it over his legs. He can't be naked whilst Nick is crying down the line. Nick never cries, not really. Not like this. "He came and got the painting yesterday." 

"Oh, Nick." Harry knows the painting Nick's talking about. It had been done by one of James' friends, before he'd started to get noticed. James liked to show it off at parties, especially when Connor was within earshot, bragging about how he'd always known he was destined for great things. When they'd bought their house, they'd hung it in the center of the living room, and James liked to call it his most prized possession. James taking it back was as sure a sign as anything else that they were done. 

"Alexa was here when he came. I've been a piss poor host this last week, but she's been planning this holiday for months." 

Harry knows. Alexa had practically bounced out of his house two weeks ago, ready for her holiday.

"So you went out." 

"We went out," Nick confirms. "Haven't done that in ages. Feeling properly tired and emotional now, though. Definite emphasis on the emotional bit." 

"What happens now?" 

"Don't know. Never had a real relationship before." 

Harry winces and curls his legs up so he can rest his forehead on his knees. He's built up a lot of thoughts for Nick about what is and is not a real relationship, but Nick can probably do without the lecture just now. Harry's got a lot of bullet points, and Nick sounds _awful_. 

"We'll probably sell the house," Nick continues. "Have to start boxing everything up. Don't want to stay here much longer anyway. Maybe I'll go 'round to Collette's. Or up to see my parents." 

"Do you still have a key to mine?" Harry's got a caretaker for his house, the same one who has been looking after it since he bought it, but he still likes to have people drop by and check up for him. Harry had given Nick a key right away because he wanted Nick to use it, but these days it's because Harry usually forgets to pack his keys and ends up locked out when he goes for a visit. And he's edging close to thirty now, it's just embarrassing to have to call Gem or his mum when he does it yet again.

"Do you want me to go check for something?" 

"I want you to move in there." Harry wrinkles his nose and picks at a loose thread on the blanket, vaguely wondering if it'll develop into a larger hole. He likes this blanket, it's nice and soft and patches would just ruin it. 

"Are you sure?" 

"Why not?" Harry asks. It's not as though he's using the place most of the year. His mum and Robin stay there when they visit Gemma. Gemma uses it like a guest house, and Harry is only ever in London a few weeks of the year anymore. It's empty for most of the time. Besides, Nick would only take up one bedroom, there's two more besides. "I'll tell mum and Gems to call you if they need to use it so they don't walk in on you without clothes." 

"I think that's more your problem than mine, Styles." 

Harry grins and lets the blanket slip off one of his feet, wiggling his toes against the cool rush of fresh air that hits. "Yeah, that's true." 

"Oh _god_ , you're naked now aren't you?" 

Sometimes Harry forgets just how well Nick knows him. "No," he says. "I've got a blanket over the important bits." It gets a laugh from Nick, so Harry feels much better about his blanket-covered self. He's rather fond of Nick's laugh, all told. "So you'll move in, then?" 

"I'll think about it." 

Harry knows that the serious part of the conversation is over for now, most likely. Nick's never been good at talking about feelings. It's his worst quality, in Harry's opinion. He just has to wait Nick out, and then they can talk about other things, because Harry doesn't want to let him go just yet. He's got the rest of his morning free, and he misses the days when he could tune into Radio One, even from California, and hear Nick's voice in his ears before sleeping. 

"Tell me about you, then," Nick says after a minute. He never could do silence very well. "Did that kid ever get over being a diva?" 

Harry can't help the laugh that bubbles out of him. He'd told Nick that story months ago — one of his new artists had let the praise from one good single go straight to his head and his rider had gotten out of control very quickly. And just for local shows, since he's not on tour or playing festivals yet. 

"No," Harry said. "He takes up more studio time than anyone I've ever worked with, and he's still only finished half his album. The label's not going to be willing to shell out much longer I don't think. He doesn't listen to me when I tell him he's nailed it either. He's like Jake Bugg, thinks his indie work is well above my lowly former boyband experience. Nevermind that I've been writing and producing for years now." 

"I bet he was a fan." 

"I think he was about two when we started." Objectively, Harry knows that he's still young, but sometimes it feels like he's been doing this forever. 

Nick laughs again. "So he was eight when you finished then? Eighteen for the reunion tour?" 

"You're not supposed to know about that! No one is!" 

"You told me." 

"I did no such thing. Must have been Niall." 

"Nah, all he ever talks about is the baby. Right proper dad he is these days. They'll kick him off Radio One soon, like they did to Coxy." 

Harry laughs again. "Niall Horan on Radio Two, what is the world coming to?" 

"An end, if my head is any indication." Nick sighs, and Harry is right back to wanting to reach through the phone for him. "I'm getting too old for this." 

"Go get something from McDonalds for your tea, yeah? And get some sleep, too." 

"Alright." It's never been hard to get Nick to agree to a Big Mac. "I'll talk to you soon?" 

"You'll have to, if you want to move into my house." He pauses. "Look after yourself, Nick." 

"You too," Nick says, voice barely above a whisper. And then the line disconnects, and Harry is left hugging his barely covered knees on his own.

~*~ 

For all that Harry's never been good at disconnecting from his phone, the next two days are particularly bad as he ends up texting Nick at all hours. He's no longer prone to instagramming his toes or lunch bags, even though he takes just as many random pictures as he always has. Now, he sends those pictures straight to Nick instead. He even uses hashtags. Nick sends back maybe one message for every five Harry sends him, but Harry is trying not to worry too much about it.

This only works because he's been texting Alexa for updates, and she is much better at giving him a clear assessment of Nick's emotional state than Nick is. From what she's saying, he's not doing all that well. 

"Is there any reason I need to be in LA the next few months?" he asks Jeff three days after Nick's drunken call. "I know I've got some performances, but for production work. I could do that remotely, maybe?" 

They're tucked into a back table in the tiny garden of Harry's favorite taco place in Glendale, knees squeezed together under a table that's barely wide enough for both their plates. Ostensibly, it's a business meeting, but by the time he'd picked up Jeff, most of the business had been finished via email and phone calls, and sent off to the lawyers to be formalized, so it's really just lunch. 

"Are you planning on disappearing again?" Jeff asks. 

Harry blushes. He still feels a bit guilty about exactly what he'd done that time, but he maintains that he'd needed it for his mental health. "That was one week. Six years ago." 

"We almost called the police, you know." 

Harry kicks him. "I took your plane, you knew exactly where I was." 

"You turned off your phone," Jeff reminds him. 

He frowns, and then takes a bite of his taco, chewing slowly so he has time to come up with an answer. Luckily, Jeff knows him well enough by now to wait instead of trying to get him to speak. In the end, though, Harry can't put the jumbled mess of sadness and hope and longing that's been eating at him for the last two days into words.

"I just miss London," Harry eventually says. "Think it might be time to switch it up and go back for a bit. Is that possible?"

Jeff pulls out his phone and starts flipping through his calendar whilst Harry eats his taco and tries not to let the sauce drip down his shirt. "You've got that thing with Disney for the next few weeks, then your show in September and Fashion week." 

Harry nods, because he knows all of those dates. "It's not like I can't come back. I'm talking about the day to day things. Do I need to be in the studio every day? Maybe we could fly some of them out for a week at a time or something. I think Louis and Liam have got a proper studio set up now. Pretty sure they'd let me have some time in it." 

"Are you finally getting sick of us, then?" He sounds a little bit hurt, which gets Harry to look up from his plate. 

Jeff is his friend and agent and business partner, but also his ex, and Harry sometimes forgets that last bit. Maybe that makes him selfish, but even right after they'd ended things, when Harry had crept back to LA after his week off the grid, Harry had wanted to keep him around. And Jeff had never tried to cut ties, either. 

"Nothing like that, I promise," Harry says, smiling softly. He's pretty sure it doesn't reach his eyes though. "Just — some things have come up and I want to be there. We can do a lot of meetings remotely can't we?" 

Jeff frowns and pokes the remains of his burrito around with a fork. It looks an unappetizing mess now, and Harry knows how it feels. "You'll lose some of that charm you're famous for, might not be great for us." 

He's definitely stalling now. "It's not permanent, I just need a few months I think. Maybe until the new year." 

"Are you sure?" 

Harry takes a moment to think about it. He's not, really. Not sure how long he'd be gone, or how welcome he'd be anyway, but he has to at least try. "Yeah."

"We'll make it work, then." 

They finish their lunch talking about lighter things, and part with a promise to talk about how this is going to work out. It'll take a few weeks to get everything sorted, to make sure the meeting scheduled for August can be done remotely or moved up since Harry can't leave before he's finished with the Disney thing anyway. He texts Rachel to warn her about the shitstorm she's about to be clearing up for him, but she's good at that. It's why he's kept her around so long.

The next few weeks are busier than Harry had expected, because it turns out that people would rather move up meetings and schedule them at ridiculous hours to get to talk to him in person instead of via teleconferencing. He's out for lunches and dinners nearly every day for three weeks, and in the studio recording for Disney the rest of the time. It's starting to feel like he's on tour again, only this time he gets to sleep in his own bed. 

He talks to Nick a few times, late at night or first thing in the morning. Nick tells him that they've put the house on the market, and that he's settling into Harry's pretty well, but he doesn't want it to be forever. Of course he's already planning his first party at Harry's place, as it's his birthday soon. 

"Everything alright with you though?" Nick asks one night. It's late, and Harry had a bit too much wine with his dinner meeting; it's starting to settle behind his eyes. He'll need to take something before he goes to bed, then. His usual cure of two pints of water probably won't cut it this time. "You sound tired." 

"I am," Harry says. It's nearly one in the morning. "It's late." 

"Not what I mean," Nick says. "You sound like you're seven months into a tour." 

If anyone knows what Harry sounds like over the phone when he's completely worn down, it's Nick. "Feels like it, too. Except that I'm still at mine and not on a bus." Harry pauses for a minute and closes his eyes. He hasn't even made it to his bedroom yet, just flopped down on the sofa when he came in an hour ago and hasn't moved. He should do that, since his bed is really comfortable. 

"You should sleep, Haz. Call me in the morning." 

"It's morning now," Harry says. He can feel himself getting petulant and petty, but he can't help it. He's got a full day tomorrow, just like the entire week's been, and he'll barely have time to sneeze, much less talk. "And don't have time tomorrow. I'm worried about you. Alexa's not there anymore to give me updates." 

"Like you're not talking to Aims and Gellz and Pix. I know your ways, Styles." 

Yeah, Harry's been talking to everyone. He always does, they're his friends too. But he's blatantly using them to check up on Nick now, and he's never done that before. Never had to do that before. He'd trusted James to do it for him. 

"I worry about you." Harry says. "And you're terrible at giving me straight answers." 

Nick doesn't say anything for a long while. "I'm alright. You should come home and see for yourself." 

"I'm trying," Harry says. He is, this is why he's running himself ragged, why he hasn't slept properly in ages. He's not been this exhausted since the last tour he'd done with the lads. "I miss London." 

"London?" 

"Shut up you tosser. Yes I miss London." Maybe if Harry shuts his eyes he can pretend he's back already. "I miss you too." It comes out as almost a whisper, as though saying it any louder will break through the dam in his chest that's holding back his complete breakdown. He's too tired for this right now. 

"Then be a proper pop star and abandon everything and get on a plane," Nick says. He's teasing, but it sounds so appealing to Harry. 

"Washed up popstar," Harry reminds him. 

"Never washed up." 

Harry can't help the smile that creeps out at the way Nick's always loved Harry's music, even when he and the lads had called it quits and he'd moved into making and producing his own albums. Especially those last few months before his first solo single had launched, when Harry had been so unsure about the whole project. 

"Go to sleep," Nick tells him again. Gently, this time. "Call me when you can." 

"Good night." 

Harry hangs up the call without waiting for Nick to speak again, but he stays on his sofa for a while longer, fighting sleep. One more week, he thinks. One more week and I get to get on a plane and go home. 

He hasn't thought of London as home for years.

~*~ 

By the time Harry manages to get on a plane, he's about to drop from exhaustion. He still hasn't told Nick he's coming, either. Harry isn't quite sure why he'd ended up keeping it a secret, only that he has, and that he feels a tiny bit worse every time Nick tells him to take a week off to come back. He's been hinting very heavily about Harry joining him in Ibiza for his birthday holiday, and yeah, Harry wants to. He thinks he can, if the travel and studio schedules will work out the way he wants them too. And hopefully that will be sorted by the time he gets off his flight.

Night flights are the devil, but Harry's probably exhausted enough to sleep right through it. He eats a decent lunch in the airport lounge, and knocks back a beer along with his sleeping pill. He probably doesn't need it, he's about to drop, but unless he can guarantee sleep the first few days back home will be a nightmare of jetlag. He generally gets over it pretty quickly, but he hasn't traveled as much the last few years, so he's not quite as used to switching time zones with every breath. 

_Just listened to your new single,_ Nick texts just as Harry's boarding. He'd sent it over the other night, having finally mastered it exactly the way he wanted it. 

_What did you think?_ Nick always claims to hate being asked for his opinions on new music, but he never hesitates to give Harry honest answers. 

_Did you write this one?_

He almost never asks about the lyrics. He's always been more concerned with whether he can sing along (badly) in the car. _yeah_. 

_Right soppy bastard you are,_ Nick says. _I love it. Had me in tears._

 _Feeling a bit tired and emotional are we?_ Harry knows Nick's codes for when he's hungover. And it is a late Sunday night for him.

Nick doesn't answer straight away, and Harry can almost picture him huffing down at his phone, doing that thing where he pretends that he isn't completely obvious. 

_Maybe a bit,_ Nick says. _Someone put an offer in on the house._

Harry is suddenly very glad he's on his way over, and hits call. 

"Hiya," Nick answers, and he sounds about as tired as Harry feels. 

"You alright?" 

Nick sighs, "Don't really know. I've never done this before." 

Harry knows he's not talking about selling the house; he's talking about everything else. The reasons for it. Before James, Nick's longest relationship could be measured in months, if you don't count Harry, and he knows Nick doesn't. 

"Is there anyone there with you?" 

"Collette's here. Ducky was, but she had to go home because she's got a proper job and has work in the morning." 

"I don't like to think about you sleeping alone," Harry says, soft. The _without me_ is only partially implied. Nick hates sleeping on his own, and all of his friends have gotten used to sharing a bed with him. Harry can't even count all the nights he's spent in Nick's bed doing nothing but sharing space. 

"You should come home." 

"Soon," Harry says, biting his lip. "I promise." It's not actually a lie, he'll be home in about thirteen hours, plus the amount of time it takes to drive from Heathrow. He just hasn't said how soon, and even though Nick hates surprises Harry thinks he'll be alright with this one. The speakers ding, and Harry is suddenly very aware of exactly where he is. "Look, I've got to go, but I'll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?" 

"Yeah." 

"Get some sleep, Grimmy." 

"You too, Hazza." 

As soon as Nick's off the call Harry switches his phone to airplane mode and pulls out his headphones. The twelve hour flight suddenly seems incredibly long.

~*~ 

The first thing Harry notices when he walks in the door to his house is that it feels lived in. It's not messy, because Nick has always been obscenely house proud in a way that Harry's only managed recently, but it feels like there's someone home. There's a neat row of shoes on a mat inside the door, worn trainers and boots lined up next to each other by the wall. He can hear music playing further in, probably in the family room, which means Nick is in. And with how loud the music is, probably didn't hear Harry open the door.

Harry leaves his boots and bag by the door and walks through the house in just his socks. He can't quite keep the grin from spreading across his face as he walks, so by the time he makes it to the family room, his cheeks are starting to hurt. 

His heart lurches a little bit as he finds Nick sitting on the sofa, facing the garden, laptop sitting on his legs. This house has never felt like this before; it's always had an air of emptiness to it. Not dusty, exactly, because there's always been someone in to keep it from getting that way, but vacant and somewhat cold, no matter how many squishy sofas he'd brought in. 

The music is coming from the entertainment system, probably connected to Nick's phone via bluetooth, since it's sitting on the coffee table by his feet. Harry goes over to the control panel which is still just out of Nick's vision and turns it off. The sudden silence startles Nick, and he sets his laptop on the table and grabs his phone, stabbing at the screen a few times and muttering to himself that there's "never been a problem" before. It's not until he's so frustrated that he nearly throws the phone across the room that he stands up to come check the actual stereo and sees Harry. 

He freezes. 

"Am I seeing things?" Nick sounds like he doesn't believe what his eyes are telling him. "Are you actually in my living room right now?" 

"Technically, it's still my living room." Harry feels like his face is about to split open. Fuck, he's _missed_ Nick. 

Nick starts moving towards him, and Harry goes, too, pulled forward by some invisible force until he bumps into Nick and holds on. Nick tucks his face into Harry's neck and steps on his toes, but Harry doesn't care. 

"You bastard. I _hate_ surprises." 

Harry couldn't stop smiling if he life depended on it. "I told you I was coming soon." 

"You didn't tell me you were on the fucking _plane_." 

They don't pull apart for a long time, not until Harry's toes start to hurt where Nick is standing on them. "Come on, let's have a drink and you can tell me everything in person." Harry pulls back just enough to kiss Nick's cheek. "Also you're standing on my toes, please." 

Nick nearly jumps in his haste to get off Harry's feet, but he still doesn't let go of Harry's shoulders. "Coffee or something stronger?" Nick asks. 

It's not that Harry has any particular thing against drinking before noon, and it's barely before noon at that, but he really is tired because he still thinks it's the middle of the night, even if he slept for most of his flight. "Coffee first." 

As they walk into the kitchen, Nick stays close and bumps his shoulders into Harry's at least twice. Harry smiles back at him. He can already feel that they're settling into a routine with each other; Nick knows which coffee Harry likes best, and pulls that one out of the cupboard. He also pulls out the milk, and whilst the coffee is brewing gets a glass for water, fills it from the tap, and hands it over. Harry gulps it down in almost one go, and perches on one of the kitchen stools, watching how comfortable Nick is moving around. He's only stayed here for a few weeks so far, and it had taken Harry much longer than that to remember where all his things were. 

It's so startlingly obvious that Nick _lives_ here now. Harry hasn't asked if he's looking for a new flat on his own, doesn't want to know the answer. Doesn't want the answer to be _yes_. Especially not when he's here, and can reach out and touch Nick if he wants. 

He wants. 

So he does; he goes around the counter and leans on Nick's shoulder, pressing down with as much of his weight as he can manage at the odd angle since Nick is still a stubborn few inches taller. He doesn't complain though, just reaches around and digs his fingers into Harry's hips, missing his ticklish spots because of the odd angle, but it's enough to make Harry dance out of the way anyway. 

"Menace," Nick says fondly. 

Harry can't argue so he just grins and pours himself another glass of water. 

They take the coffee back to the living room and fall onto the sofa together and talk, Nick's legs sprawled over Harry's lap, one of Harry's hand on his knees. They've talked so many times over the last few weeks, but it's so much easier in person, so much easier to read Nick when he's not relying on a phone speaker to convey tone. What it really means is that Nick's sad smile is directly in front of Harry's face when he talks about James, and all Harry wants to do is smooth the heartbreak away. 

So he does, with small touches to Nick's knees and hair and hands. 

Coffee turns into lunch turns into wine turns into cocktails, so by the time Ducky shows up for tea and double Corrie they're both well tipsy. Nick goes to get the door and let her in — not before complaining to Harry about how everyone just used to let themselves in because they all had keys — but comes back down and takes up his seat on Harry's lap before Harry can get up to give her a hug hello. 

It feels a bit impolite, since he hasn't seen Emily in ages, but he's quite comfortable with his drink and Nick in his lap, arm wrapped around Harry's shoulders. She just looks amused by the whole thing and settles on the other sofa to watch. 

They end up ordering takeaway for dinner, and they make Nick go to the gate to accept the delivery. 

"How long are you back?" Emily asks once Nick's gone. 

Harry shrugs, because he's not sure yet. "A few months, at least. Have a few things I can't cancel that I'll go back for, but I thought I should be here." 

"Have you told him that?" 

He shakes his head. "Didn't even tell him I was coming." 

"He hates surprises." 

"Seems to be alright with this one," Harry says, letting his eyes drift over to the dining room and the door outside, where Nick's been gone for far too long already. 

"You've missed him." 

He can't argue with that. "Yeah, I have," he says quietly. She doesn't get the chance to respond because Nick is back in the sitting room with two large bags dangling from his fingers. 

"Did we really order all this?" he asks. "We're not having a party." 

"I disagree," Harry says, smiling and reaching forward to start unpacking one of the two bags. "There's drinks and friends and food." 

Nick just hums around a mouthful of sushi, and Harry takes the tray away from him. "Eat from a plate like a civilized person." 

Emily laughs, and so does Nick, hiding his mouth behind his hands because he can't keep it closed whilst laughing that hard and he apparently has some manners left. 

It's late by the time Emily has to go home, and Nick is once again draped over Harry on the sofa. He dumps Nick's legs off his lap and stands up, wobbling a little. "Which bedroom's mine now?" 

Nick grabs Harry's hand and pulls himself upright, too. "Didn't steal your bedroom," he slurs right into Harry's neck. Harry shivers a bit and lets his eyes drift shut before wrapping an arm around Nick's waist. 

"Come on, then." Harry tugs him towards the stairs. Over the years he's gained a bit more control over his feet, but as they stumble up the stairs to the bedroom Nick's claimed as his, he feels about ten years younger. His toes still point in, and between Nick's weight draped across his side and the fact that they've been drinking fairly steadily for hours now he trips over them a fair few times on his way upstairs. 

Once on the landing, Nick pulls Harry into the largest of the bedrooms, and together they fall onto the bed, Harry lying half on top of Nick, their legs and arms tangled together. It's horrifically uncomfortable, with Nick squishing his elbow and his knee digging into Harry's thigh, but it feels more like home than anything else. They used to do this all the time, stumble in from whatever party or outing they'd been at, and fall asleep together. Harry's not twenty anymore, though; his mouth feels awful and he needs to drink some water before he sleeps or he'll feel like crap when he wakes up. The jet lag is going to be bad enough, he needs to not be hungover as well. 

As soon as he tries to move, Nick's hands tighten on his shirt. "Don't go," he says. He already sounds half asleep. Probably is, he's never had a problem falling asleep wherever he sits down. Neither has Harry, but he wants to clean his teeth before he does. 

His bags are still downstairs, so he uses Nick's toothbrush and the small cup set by the sink, downing at least five tiny shots of water in a row from the tap. Nick has scooted up the bed so that his head's on a pillow, but he's still on top of the duvet and in his jeans and jacket and he'll be very uncomfortable in the morning. And he should clean his teeth as well. 

Harry shakes him gently until he opens his eyes and blinks a few times. "You're still 'ere." 

"Still here," Harry agrees, and gently pulls him into a sitting position. "Come on, clean your teeth and have some water or you'll regret it in the morning." 

Nick's limbs go a bit floppy, like he's two years old and protesting leaving the house, but Harry's well used to dealing with him in this state so it doesn't take much to coax him to his feet and into the ensuite. Whilst Nick cleans his teeth, Harry strips down to just his pants and waits. 

When he's done, Nick moves back towards the bed like he's just going to collapse, so Harry stops him in the middle of the room with a gentle hand to his stomach. Nick reaches up to swipe Harry's hair out of his face, so Harry leans in and lands a gentle kiss to Nick's nose, before reaching up to ease his jacket off his shoulders and toss it aside. He lets Nick keep his t-shirt, mindful of how Nick doesn't like sticking to whoever is sharing his bed, but he skims his hands down Nick's sides and drops to his knees much more gracefully than he thought he'd be able to manage, and unbuttons Nick's jeans. 

Nick is gripping tight to his shoulders, and Harry carefully peels his jeans down and off his legs, helping Nick to step out of them without falling over. Before standing up Harry leans in and places a soft kiss to Nick's belly, over his shirt, just breathing in and letting years of memories flood back. It's been ages since he's been able to touch Nick like this, to revel in the intimacy of their long history together, to feel Nick's skin under his fingertips. They're both too tired and too drunk to do anything about it tonight, but it feels like a promise. Maybe they've finally got the timing right, this time. 

Harry stands up before he lets himself think about it too much and kisses Nick gently, on the lips this time, before tugging him back to the bed. They elbow each other a few times before finding a comfortable position, and then Harry's asleep before he can think anything else.

~*~ 

Harry wakes up first because his body clock is all wrong. Also because his stomach is growling, his head aches, and he has to piss. Nick has migrated away during the night; he's on his stomach and one of his feet has been flung out, tangled with Harry's own.

"Nick," Harry says, gently shaking Nick's shoulder. He doesn't need to fully wake up, but he'd rather not send Nick into a panic first thing. He's only just got back. "I'm going down to make coffee."

Nick hums a bit and opens his eyes blearily, blinking a few times. Harry waits for the words to actually make sense, which takes a minute, but it's easy to see when they sink in because Nick nods and closes his eyes again. Harry doesn't move right away; he takes a minute to get a good look at Nick. 

The wrinkles next to his eyes have deepened a bit, despite the long line of progressively stronger wrinkle erasing creams Nick's been using for over a decade, and he's got a few gray hairs sprinkled in now. Not enough to be really noticeable from far away, but Harry's lying in bed with him right now. Asleep, Nick looks older, which is unusual, Harry thinks, or he at least looks his age. When he's up and about he almost never stops moving and smiling, attracting attention like it's his job. Which it was for a long time. It makes him look younger. Makes the crinkles by his eyes nothing more than laughter lines because he never stops smiling, makes the grey in his hair disappear as he constantly messes it about. 

Harry likes this version of Nick, too. The one where he shows his age, where it means that they've both grown up a lot, and maybe the years between them don't mean quite so much anymore. 

When Nick is fully settled back into sleep, Harry gets up. His bags are unpacked downstairs, but he's got some clothes in his bedroom still, so he climbs up there. He ends up taking a shower, too, since he'd been on a plane and travel always leaves him feeling a bit disgusting; especially long haul flights. He'd just been too wrapped up in seeing Nick again yesterday to notice or care. 

The hot water is amazing, and Harry spends way too much time under the spray just because of the way it feels. He slips into a pair of jeans that look like they're about to fall apart, and which he's probably had since he was a teenager, but they still fit well enough. Nick's still asleep when Harry peeks in on him on his way down to the kitchen, so he doesn't stop and just goes to make his coffee. 

He's on his second cup on the patio outside when Nick finds him and drops into the next chair over and makes grabby hands at Harry's coffee. 

"Get your own," Harry tells him, but passes it over anyway even though it's full of milk and sugar, and it's iced; the exact opposite of how Nick takes his. Nick makes a face at the first sip, and Harry thinks Nick probably deserves that, but goes to get another cup. 

There's not much left of Harry's coffee by the time he comes back out with a full mug, black, for Nick and swaps back. He also hands over a packet of paracetamol and a bottle of water, since pills should never be taken with hot liquids, in Harry's opinion. 

Nick doesn't say anything, but that's fine, he can thank Harry later. 

They don't talk until Nick is finished with his coffee, but the morning is nice and sunny. The sun feels different than it does in LA; brighter in some weird way, like it's basking in victory over the normal rainy weather. 

Nick's stomach grumbles, and Harry's follows, and they both laugh and move back inside to the kitchen so Harry can do a proper fry up. But the fridge is nearly empty and Harry has to laugh. 

"If it weren't for your wrinkles I'd think it was ten years ago," Harry says, pulling out some bacon and bread for sandwiches, since there's nothing else for breakfast. 

"Laughter lines, thank you very much, Harold," Nick says, but he's smiling, bringing them out and making them deeper. In the morning sunlight he's gorgeous and Harry doesn't bother hiding the way his breath catches. It's not like what he feels for Nick is any sort of secret, even between the two of them. "So how long are you staying then?" 

Harry pokes at the bacon which is just starting to sizzle in the pan. "Have to be back for a thing end of next month." 

"You're definitely coming to Spain then." 

"Yep!" He's been looking forward to it too. For all the years that he's known Nick, he's never managed to make it on one of his birthday holidays. They've only ever gone on holiday together the once, and that had been more of an escape than anything else, even if you factor in the lush tropical villa they'd stayed at. 

"A whole month then," Nick says. "I don't think I've ever had you stick around that long." 

"Longer," Harry says. "I've got to go to LA for for work but I'm coming back. Probably until the new year at least. That's the plan anyway." He turns the bacon, satisfied at the dark caramel color it's turning. 

Nick doesn't say anything for a long time, so Harry keeps poking at the bacon and throws a few bread slices in the toaster. 

"Is this — did you do this for me?" 

Harry just shrugs. "Yeah." It's not that big of a deal. Well, it is since he's never done this for anyone before, but he's also never had enough power over his own schedule to be able to rearrange everything. He'd probably have done it before now if anyone else had needed him to. Maybe. "You sounded sad." 

"What?" 

"Nick, you called me whilst dead drunk for the first time in years to tell me that you'd broken up with James, and I missed you. So I moved things around a bit so I could come home. I can do most of my work from London anyway." 

"I don't know what to say." 

Harry turns the bacon one more time to be sure it's done, then takes it out of the pan and onto a stack of paper towels to drain off a bit of the grease while he butters the toast. "Say thank you, invite me on your show tonight, and eat your sandwich." 

Nick comes around the counter and pulls Harry into a hug, and Harry hugs back as best he can with a knife in one hand and a half-buttered slice of toast in the other. Nick doesn't seem to mind though. "Thank you." He leans forward and gently kisses Harry, but pulls back before it goes anywhere. "Now about that sandwich." 

They take breakfast back outside, and then spend the rest of the morning in the sun. Aimee comes over at lunch, clearly having heard that Harry's back; he'd forgotten how fast news spreads among Nick's friends. She gives him a big hug before shoving Nick into the shower and declaring that she's taking them for lunch. They'd have had to go out anyway, since Nick's fridge has next to nothing in it. Besides, Harry wants some bananas.

~*~ 

Nick's birthday is on a Sunday at the beginning of a two week holiday.

They spend the week leading up to it split between Radio 1, Harry's house, (which he's already starting to think of as _theirs_ ) and various friends’ houses during the day when they're not working. 

Trying to keep up with a schedule that's still largely based in California, and therefore eight hours behind, means that Nick's show is a late lunch break. And usually he doesn't take meetings after the show's over. 

Instead, they end up going for late dinners and drinks, tumbling home in the small hours of the morning, and not making it past Nick's bedroom before collapsing. 

It's nice having someone to share the bed with. To have someone to cuddle up to and fall asleep with, even if Nick usually ends up on the opposite side of the bed by morning. 

The birthday celebrations start on Friday afternoon with a very boozy lunch that Nick's parents have come down for, along with Olivia and her boyfriend. Harry hasn't even seen his own mum yet, though Gemma had been over for lunch the other day, complete with lots of knowing looks and lecherous winks at Harry when Nick's back was turned. 

The big party is on Friday night back at their house. There's food and cake and karaoke, and Harry ends up in a battle with Florence, against Rita and Niall, which starts out with actual singing and ends up with everyone booing them off the "stage" when they get wasted enough to think that pretending they don't know how to sing is a good idea. Annie takes over the decks when they're finally dragged away by a smiling Nick. Harry kisses him soundly on the mouth, with a big exaggerated noise which is mostly swallowed by the music before melting away back into the crowd to get another drink. 

He ends up in the living room, squashed into the sofa with Gellz and Miquita and Ian, a tray of canapes on the table in front of them, though mostly they're just lounging with slowly emptying drinks, and talking. 

"He seems better this week," Gillian say to him, twisting so she can look him in the eye. "Heard you were here for a while." 

Harry's had this conversation separately with each of their mutual friends, Olivia, Jane, Eileen, and even Gemma. His own mum has also rung him to tell him that Nick's been very giggly on the radio lately, which Harry knows because he's been in the studio all week doing his best to make Nick laugh and fuck up his links. His answers to these talks are so well rehearsed that he could do it in his sleep, but no matter how many times he tells them how long he's here, he can't stop the fond smile that creeps onto his face. Nor can he stop himself from looking for Nick when he does, not sure whether he wants to find where Nick is, or check for a bit of sneaky eavesdropping. 

He blushes when Gellz points it out with a not very subtle elbow to his ribs, but forgives her by way of offering to get her a fresh drink. 

"I'm glad you're back," she says, only slightly yelling over the music. She squeezes his hand as he stands up to leave, only making it a few steps before his seat is filled by Michael. 

He goes out to the garden once he's delivered the promised drink, and ends up finding Nick sitting on the grass by the pond with Fiona and Rita and an empty glass. There's a tiny sliver of space open next to him so Harry drops into it and hands his drink over when Nick reaches for it. It's hard to miss the look that passes between the girls, but they don't seem at all put out when Harry narrows his eyes at them until they both burst out laughing at nothing. Harry cuddles close to Nick's side and steals his drink back. 

The fact that this is his house, a house he didn't live in when he was eighteen, doesn't change the fact that it feels like he's gone back in time. Tonight feels like the parties at Nick's flat; the winter ones where everyone would squash into the living room, or summer evenings when there was extra space on the patio. At those parties, before Harry knew everyone else all that well, he'd always end up close to Nick's side, stealing his drinks and finishing them before replacing them, sneaking his hands up under Nick's shirts just to feel the way he'd shiver and tremble under Harry's hands. 

It had been just as intoxicating then as it is now, when he's finally got permission to touch like that again. Nick reacts in exactly the same way, too. Harry can easily catalogue the way his breath hitches and his muscles go taut and trembly. The way he leans that much closer to Harry, giving his hands more room to roam. He manages to get his pinky finger under Nick's belt, the rest of his hand splayed out, curving around his hip. Nick breaks out in goose pimples under his hands, since his shirt is now letting in the cool evening air, and Harry smooths over it with his thumb until they go down again. 

Sitting so close together, it's easy to dip forward and capture Nick's mouth with his own. He's warm and tastes like melon from the midori in Harry's drink. Harry loves melon quite a bit, but it's even better coming from Nick's tongue. It's not like getting off with Nick is anything new, Nick tends to kiss everyone when he's drunk, or at least used to, so it's just one more thing that's sending Harry back in time. 

The kiss doesn't last all that long, all things considered, but when they break apart, Fiona and Rita have moved on, and they're sitting alone on the grass while their friends all chat in small groups around them. Not wanting to waste this bit of time where he's got Nick to himself, Harry kisses him again, setting his glass on the ground and reaching up to cup Nick's jaw, tangling his fingers in Nick's hair. 

He only pulls back when someone kicks his foot, and he looks up to find Gemma standing over them. 

"This looks cozy." She kicks him again, but offers her hand and Harry reluctantly lets go of Nick so she can pull him to his feet. He's not a tiny bit gratified to feel the way Nick's hand lingers on his back until he's literally out of range. "I'm leaving," Gem says as they walk towards the gate. 

She's got her bag slung over her shoulders, and Harry focuses on the strap as she keeps talking. There's a weird swirly, glittery blue pattern that's catching the lights from the garden.

"You need to go visit mum, you know," Gemma tells him. "Soon." 

"We're leaving for Spain tomorrow, but I'll be back in a week." 

Her eyebrows shoot up. "Are you —" 

"I don't know," Harry cuts her off before she can finish the question. He's not sure what they're doing at all, only that it's something. Maybe _the_ something. 

"You seem happy." Gemma comes up on her toes to hug him, and he holds tightly to her. 

"I haven't been sad." 

Gemma smiles at him like he's missing something. He's not, not really. He knows there's a difference since he's been home this week, but it's not as simple as the dividing line between _happy_ and _sad_. 

"You never are. But I'm glad you're happy anyway." She hugs him one more time and then she's out the gate and into the car he can see waiting for her at the curb. 

Nick isn't in the same spot when he gets back into the yard, but it isn't long before Harry finds him in the kitchen with Aimee and LMC. Nick catches his eye and smiles, but doesn't make any move to break away from the conversation he's having, and that's fine. 

Gemma leaving seems to start the flood of people out of the house. There's a line of cars outside the gate, and in ones and twos and small groups everyone trickles out of the house, leaving Harry and Nick standing in the middle of a mess of empty glasses and wrinkled, used cocktail serviettes. Half the cake is still sitting out on the dining room table, and there's a mess of unwrapped presents in the corner of the living room. All things they can take care of in the morning, or get someone else to do it while they're gone, since they have a flight to catch in the evening. 

"Leave it." Harry grabs Nick's hand and pulls. "Time to sleep." 

They make a circuit of the house turning off all the lights, unplugging the fairy lights in the garden and watching it go dark, the only reflection on the pond coming from the ambient city light around them. 

Neither of them are falling down, but they're both still tipsy so they bump into each other as they move around Nick's bedroom and ensuite, undressing and cleaning their teeth (Harry's brought a new toothbrush down from his to leave on Nick's sink). Harry piles his clothes into Nick's laundry basket, and climbs into bed in just his pants waiting for Nick to do the same. 

It's a routine that's been around for a grand total of four days, but it's already perfectly familiar and comfortable. Nick turns out the light and pulls the light summer duvet up over their shoulders before turning to Harry and setting his hand on Harry's hip. 

Something shifts between them as Nick swipes his thumb over Harry's hip. He slides closer as gracefully as he can, which isn't very, and presses against Nick, grabbing his hand and tangling their fingers together between them. 

"Hazza." Nick's voice is barely a whisper, but it rings in Harry's ears nonetheless. 

He kisses Nick because he doesn't have the proper words to talk about this. He suspects Nick doesn't either because it's been a long day and they're both still tipsy. Harry can't think about anything beyond what's happening right now, and there's definitely a bigger conversation they're going to have to have. Sooner rather than later, Harry thinks. 

Right now, the soft slide of Nick's lips and tongue on his, the feel of their fingers tangled together, that's all that matters. They kiss until Harry is nearly asleep, and he's pretty sure Nick is faring about the same, so he breaks their lips apart and tips Nick onto his back, sliding his leg over Nick's and burying his face in Nick's neck. He's a bit too bony to be a proper pillow, but Harry's very comfortable all the same. 

He takes extra care not to let Nick let go of his hand as they drift off to sleep.

~*~ 

Harry drifts back into consciousness gradually, not fully aware of where he is for several long minutes, just happy to bask in the warmth and comfort of wherever he is. His limbs are heavy and sleep-warm and he feels pinned down by something, but it's not bad to be stuck where he is. It's incredibly comfortable. As he wakes up further he remembers that he's in bed. Nick's bed, in his ( _their_ ) house.

Nick's head is on Harry's chest, hair tickling his nose, so Harry shakes his head a bit to get out of the way without waking Nick. It's so rare for them to wake up pressed together at all, but Nick's legs are tangled into Harry's own, and one arm is tucked into Harry's side whilst the other is resting on his stomach, fingers splayed out and gently shifting as Harry breathes. 

He both does and doesn't want to wake Nick, because it's very peaceful lingering here at the edge of full consciousness, but he also wants to feel more than just the tiny puffs of Nick's breath on his skin.

Harry slides his fingertips over Nick's, gently tracing the long lines of his hands, one finger at a time. He's always loved Nick's hands. Was always drawn to the way he throws them around when he's talking, the easy way he reaches out to people. It's a bit of an obvious metaphor, even to Harry's pop-music steeped soul, but Nick's hands are a dead giveaway for his personality, open and welcoming and energetic. 

He's playing with the pad of Nick's ring finger when his breathing starts to shorten up and the rest of him stirs, though he doesn't pull away from Harry. 

"Hmmmm?" 

There's some sort of question there, but Harry can't parse it, not yet. He moves from Nick's hand to his face, running his fingers over Nick's jawline and gently tipping him so he can see Nick's face. 

He's blinking slowly, some of his fringe hanging into his face so Harry pushes it out of his eyes. There's light streaming through the window, making Nick's eyes shine bright and clear, and slowly, torturously slowly he starts dragging his hand up Harry's stomach, over the butterfly, over the birds, and up to his neck. 

"Nick." Harry can barely breathe, caught in this one moment. Each touch of Nick's fingers causes Harry's stomach to twist until he's nearly physically twisting in the sheets, and all Nick's done is move his hand. "Nick." 

That's all it takes, Nick holds Harry still as he leans in for a kiss, and Harry melts back into the pillows, his eyes fluttering closes at the first touch of Nick's lips on his. 

It's far from the first time they've kissed — it's only been a few hours since the last time they did — but something about this particular sun-soaked morning is making it seem bigger somehow. Like the world outside is farther away than usual, leaving them to be the last two men on the planet, wrapped up in nothing but each other. 

Harry can feel himself getting hard, but it's as distant as everything else, and nothing is more important right now than the soft slide of Nick's lips against his, the gentle shifting of his hands in Harry's hair, and the warm press of him all down Harry's side. 

Nick had fallen asleep in a shirt, so Harry tips a bit more onto his side so he can reach over and burrow under it to get at more of Nick's skin. The dip of Nick's spine is very inviting, so Harry traces his fingers up the small of Nick's back, feeling him shudder and press closer. 

What had been a sleepy morning kiss turns into more when Harry feels Nick's hard dick press into his hip, hot and burning into his skin. He groans into Nick's mouth and pulls him in a fraction of an inch closer, to feel even more of how he's pressed up against Harry. 

Harry protests when Nick pulls away, shifting so that he's nearly kneeling over Harry; Harry fists his hand in Nick's shirt so as not to lose contact and whines because he can't recall words, especially not the ones that will get Nick to come back to him. 

He doesn't leave, though, he just leans down plants a gentle kiss on Harry's lips. "To be continued." 

And then he's gone, disappeared into the ensuite, leaving Harry with a hard dick and a soft heart and a bundle of emotions, the biggest of which start with _L_. He rolls his pants down his hips and kicks them deep into the sheets where they can stay for a while.

The only concession he makes to the outside world is to check his watch, which is sitting on the bedside table, and find that it's still morning. Late morning, but morning nonetheless. They've got a few hours before they need to go to the airport. He's not too concerned about packing — he'll buy them both full new holiday wardrobes if it means he can linger in bed with Nick a while longer. 

"Hurry up!" Harry is reduced to idly stroking himself while he waits for Nick, but he's not going to wait much longer. There's no lock on the ensuite door. "I'm starting without you." 

Nick's got a toothbrush in his hand and a ring of white foam around his mouth when he opens the door. "I had morning breath." 

Harry rolls his eyes. "So do I, you don't see me getting out of bed." 

Nick reaches behind him and tosses Harry's toothbrush at him. Useless without toothpaste and water, and Nick knows it, but Harry is not leaving this bed until he gets Nick back in it with him. And maybe after a few orgasms. He just needs to get Nick on board with his plans. 

"Have you got condoms?" Harry probably should have bought some at some point this week, because there's never been any doubt that they'd end up here. The only question was how long it was going to take this time. But he's hardly left Nick's side all week, and it would have been a bit embarrassing and presumptuous to do it when they were out shopping for food that wasn't bacon. 

Nick's mouth is clear of foam when he appears again, mouth tilted down into a frown. "Um." Harry wants to smooth the furrow in his brow; if only Nick wasn't so fucking far away from the bed. "There hasn't been— not since —" 

Harry nods. He'd known that, mostly because he's been keeping a pretty close watch on Nick ever since the breakup, but somehow he hadn't realized until just now that it would mean Nick isn't prepared to shag him. "It's alright. We'll pick some up on the way to the airport." He holds out his hands in an open invitation to come back to bed. 

Nick leaves his t-shirt and pants behind when he does, and Harry holds the duvet up so he can slide in easily. 

He doesn't want to give Nick a chance to get away again, so he rolls on top and straddles Nick's thighs. It would be so easy to just wrap his hand around Nick's cock, it's right there, lying along his belly but Harry puts his hands down on either side of Nick's head and leans down to kiss him, taking care not to actually lay on top of him. 

The angle is just enough to let their dicks touch, barely more than a brush of skin on skin. It's still enough to send sparks shooting up Harry's spine. He has to resist the urge to grind down and get more, but not yet. Right now he needs to keep kissing Nick. 

Nick's hands dig into his hips, trying to get Harry to collapse down on top of him, but Harry's not having any of it. He's taking this as his own pace, and Harry likes a good tease. 

Then again, the last five days have have been one long tease in a lot of ways, so he lets himself be dragged down until their hips are grinding together. There's not an easy slide since they haven't pulled out the lube yet, but the friction of Nick's cock against his is more than pleasant. He doesn't want to break away from Nick's mouth, but he also doesn't want to just rub off on Nick's hip. 

It takes another minute before he makes his decision and starts moving down, pushing back the duvet as he goes. Nick's neck smells heavenly, so Harry spends some time there before moving on to his collarbones and chest and belly. He tangles his fingers in the hair on Nick's chest and revels in the way it tickles his nose as he goes to bite Nick's nipple. 

Nick's hand finds it's way into Harry's hair and tugs a bit. Harry's eyes flutter shut when Nick rubs over the spot behind his ear that's particularly sensitive, so he has to come back up and kiss him again. 

When Harry finally does make it all the way down to Nick's hips he takes care to spread out Nick's legs, going for the soft skin of his inner thighs before his dick. He's not nearly as sensitive as Harry is, but he hates being made to wait, which is exactly what Harry's making him do as he scrapes his fingers and his tongue and teeth over the soft skin. 

"Come here," Nick croaks out, voice sounding rough already. Harry bites down against the way it rolls through him, leaving him flushed and pleased. 

When Harry starts crawling back up Nick's body, intent on taking his time, Nick stops him. 

"Not that bit, love." 

Harry furrows his brow for a minute before he gets it, and smiles wide. They both have to scoot to the middle of the bed, and there's a few elbows (Harry's) in near-sensitive places (Nick's), but they're both laughing by the time they settle into position. 

Finally, Harry closes his hand around Nick's hard cock, stroking it a few times and watching the way moisture gathers at the head. He smears it around with his thumb just to hear Nick's groan. 

"Get on with it, then," Nick says, even though he's doing the exact same thing. At least he is until he leans down and slides Harry's dick into his mouth in one smooth movement. Harry can't help the groan that escapes. 

Whilst Nick seems to be intent on going straight to the end, Harry takes his time, smearing the head of Nick's cock over his lips a few times and licking the taste off his lips. He can still remember exactly how Nick tastes, even though it's been ages. Everything about this is so familiar that Harry feels like he's falling apart, and not just from the way Nick's tongue is working him over. 

He reaches between them and gropes for Nick's hand, and holds on. The angle's all wrong to twine their fingers together, but he can grab for Nick's wrist, and he feels Nick doing the same. 

It's a bit awkward to do this with just one hand, and Harry's never been very coordinated, especially when someone is actually sucking him off, but he manages. He's probably been teasing Nick for long enough anyway, so with one last lick he seals his lips over his teeth and takes Nick fully into his mouth. 

Harry loves the way Nick feels on his tongue, hot and heavy, stretching his mouth open. His jaw aches a bit, as it's been ages since he's done this for anyone, but he doesn't mind at all, especially not when Nick sneaks his free hand back to press a finger against his rim. He feels alive, every nerve ending oversensitive and trembling. 

He's not going to last long, not with Nick overwhelming every one of his senses, but he doesn't want to pull his mouth off Nick's cock to warn him. Instead, he squeezes Nick's wrist, hoping that he'll understand. 

He does, and Harry's jaw goes slack as Nick speeds up, sucking hard and pressing his fingers so that they're almost slipping inside. It's a bit rough without lube, but they're too far gone to stop now. 

Nick's hips are twitching, trying to get traction to fuck his mouth, but with both of them on their sides and draped over each other he can't manage more than a tiny thrust. Harry will make it up to him later. It's not like it would be a chore or anything. 

Even though Harry's been on edge for what feels like ages, it's the tiniest swipe of Nick's tongue that sends him over the edge, spilling into Nick's mouth and feeling the wave of it spread through his limbs making his eyes heavy and his breathing hard. 

He keeps going, Harry's cock twitching in his mouth, oversensitive and spent, exactly the way Harry likes it best, his hand moving up to trace the branches on his hips. 

Harry sucks Nick in one more time and then pulls back enough so that just the head of Nick's cock is still in his mouth, his hand moving in slow twisting strokes to make up for it. 

Nick pulls off Harry as he starts to go soft, but now that his mouth isn't occupied, he starts talking. Mostly nonsense; Harry loves his voice anyway. Especially when it's cracked and rough from blowing Harry. Nick always sounds his best this way. 

Just like Harry had done before, Nick squeezes his wrist and Harry speeds up his hand until Nick comes too, spilling into Harry's mouth at first until Harry pulls off him completely to catch Nick's come on his lips and face. Most of it falls back onto Nick's leg because of the angle, but Harry gets enough for it to be what he'd wanted. He's Nick's, now. 

Also, he just really likes it when people come on his lips. 

He takes Nick’s dick back into his mouth for one last taste before Nick pulls him off. Harry wipes his face on Nick's leg, smiling at Nick's protest, before flipping back around and crawling up the bed to lay next to Nick. 

They're still halfway down the bed, both their legs hanging off the end. Harry slides a leg between Nick, feeling the mess on his legs squish and spread out between them as he moves. He goes in for a kiss, but Nick blocks him by putting his palm over Harry's mouth. 

"You've got come-breath," Nick says. 

Harry licks at Nick's palm until he moves his hand. It takes longer than he expects. "You're not exactly minty fresh anymore, Nicholas." 

This time when Harry moves in, Nick lets him.

~*~ 

Harry orders a beer as soon as they sit down in the lounge at Heathrow, and just smiles when Nick looks at him, before ordering one for him, too. The flight to Ibiza isn't long, but he's upgraded Nick's ticket and his own so that they can pass the time in comfort.

"So tell me about where we're going." 

Harry is vaguely aware that a bunch of their friends are also coming for the week, but they're flying in tomorrow. The only reason Nick and Harry are flying today is because Nick hadn't wanted to travel on his actual birthday. 

"I can't believe I've known you for a decade and you've never been to Ibiza with us." Nick is looking through the menu that's on the table between them. He checks his watch. Maybe they could eat. Anything served on the plane is bound to have that awful metallic tang to it. 

"Been busy," he shrugs. "Want to split a plate of chips with me?"

Nick pats his stomach which, while it might not be quite as flat as it was a decade ago, is still not exactly thick. "I've got to be bikini ready. I can't eat _chips_."

Harry orders them anyway. "No, but really. All I know about Formentera is from your instagram." 

"It's Ibiza. There's a beach and a pool and lots of sangria."

"There's got to be something to keep you going back. You hate the beach when you visit me." 

Nick pauses and contemplates his hands for a minute. "Haven't been back in a few years. James liked to go new places." 

Harry has to look away. He should have remembered that. Nick squeezes his knee, and they don't talk until their food arrives, along with refills for their drinks. 

"Your ocean is too cold." Nick steals a chip from Harry's basket. "It's so bloody sunny all the time and as soon as you touch the water it ruins the illusion." 

"Dunno." Harry filches a tomato off Nick's salad in retaliation. "Kinda like it. I don't swim at the beach anyway." 

"No, you take long walks and take pictures of the tourists." 

"And the surfers. I bought a new lens a few months ago. It's got a wicked zoom." 

"Taking up a new career then? Going to sell my holiday photos to Heat?" Nick's grinning wide again, and stealing even more chips off Harry's plate. This is why he'd gone for the larger order. 

"Could always use some pocket money," Harry agrees. 

They board at the very last minute, as Harry's not enamored of spending more time on planes than he absolutely has to for wherever he's going. Today's a short flight, all things considered. It's too late to get a pre-takeoff drink, but there's a bottle of water in the cup holders between their seats, so Harry drinks that to hopefully keep the beer from hitting too hard at altitude. Of course they'll probably have more drinks in the air. 

The villa they're staying at is halfway between totally private and a full luxury hotel. Given the sheer number of Nick's friends coming this year, it's going to be a nearly private resort for the week. 

There are plenty of people up and about as they check in and get shown to their room, even though it's siesta time. Harry had put Rachel in charge of re-booking this trip for them, once he'd decided he was coming, and she's managed to do quite well. They're in a suite rather than just a room. There's two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a full, large living room with sofas, a kitchen, and a balcony overlooking the pool and courtyard and the ocean. Harry throws the balcony doors open to let the late evening breeze in, and Nick comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist. 

"Pretty sure this isn't the room I booked for myself," Nick says into Harry's ear before nibbling on it a bit. 

Harry presses back against him and holds tightly to Nick's hands. "Might be a booking error. Best not tell them." 

"Sneaky." 

The ocean breeze kicks up and chills the bit of Harry's neck that Nick's been working on and he shivers in Nick's arms. "That's me. Very sneaky." 

Nick's hand slips under Harry's shirt, tracing the lines of the laurels on his hips, even without being able to see them, and Harry can't help but reach up so he can hold Nick in place for a kiss. With the doors open and the hum of people moving around outside it feels deliciously hidden and public all at once. It's frighteningly similar to the way they'd sneak off to the toilets at parties. Except that they have a giant suite to themselves, red sunlight pouring into the room, and all the time in the world. 

Their bags have been divided up between the two bedrooms, Harry's in the larger one on the assumption of the porter, so that's where Harry pulls Nick. The room also has a door out to the balcony, so Harry opens that one a well, but it's also got a hugely comfortable bed, so instead of standing around, he can push Nick onto the fluffy covers and crawl on top of him. Only to have to sheepishly stand up a minute later when he discovers that his bag is across the room on the chair by the wardrobe. 

He'd made sure to have the car stop at the chemists on the way to Heathrow. 

Most of the condoms end up scattered on the floor when Harry drops the box after pulling one packet out. He tosses it at Nick before digging through his bag for the lube as well. He holds it up in a triumphant pose before shedding all of his clothing in one quick go and bounding back to the bed. 

He falls into Nick's space easily, wrapping himself in Nick's arms and kissing him until they're both breathless. Harry's mostly got over the possessive urge to mark up his partners, but Nick's neck is open and inviting, his half-buttoned shirt already starting to fall open over his shoulder. He can't help that Nick's got nicely freckled collarbones, so he dips his head down to tasted them, leaving a trail of small bites that has Nick simultaneously giggling and twisting to get away. It's futile, because Harry's basically sitting on his thighs, and he's got a lot more muscle to him than Nick does. 

What does happen is that Harry's hard dick ends up digging into Nick's hip. They both groan and Harry has to kiss him again. 

They end up nearly ripping Nick's shirt when Harry sits up to unbutton it because they both reach for the seam at once, so Harry falls to his side on the bed to let Nick up so he can get naked. 

"Feeling a bit exposed here," Nick says, nodding to the open door. The sun is just starting to dip down below the trees, and it's covering everything in a soft golden light that throws Nick's freckles into sharp relief. He can see where his line of bites are starting to bloom magnificently on Nick's collarbones, and something twists in his gut because they're finally here. 

And not just in Ibiza. 

Nick is hard, cock curving up towards his belly, the tip just a bit shiny and wet, and Harry really needs to touch him again. 

"Come here, you idiot." He pulls a corner of the blankets back, and then scrambles to kick the entire duvet down to the end of the bed, leaving them on just the crisp, clean sheets when Nick finally joins him again. Harry doesn't bother pulling the sheet over them again. He wants to see Nick, and the light is just perfect. He almost wishes he had a camera — he'd roll Nick onto his back again, capture the red-gold sunset by way of the white sheets and Nick's skin. He'd focus on the line of bite marks and Nick's messy, wilted quiff, ruined from the travel and the breeze, and Harry's own fingers. 

He's fairly sure Nick would only kick up a token of protest if Harry were to go get his camera out of his bag, but it would ruin the moment. They've had enough interrupted moments and bad timing to last a lifetime. Instead, he blinks a few times to commit the image to memory, and spares a thought to lament how he's never been able to draw with any talent at all, before leaning down to kiss Nick again, stretching out along his side and letting his hands roam. 

Harry's mostly playing with Nick's nipples and chest hair but Nick's got both his long arms looped around Harry's back, dipping lower and lower all the time. The moment his fingers brush over the top of Harry's bum, Harry can't help but grind down against Nick. 

"Please." He's been single for about a year, though not celibate, but he's not had anyone fuck him for a long time. It's a bit too overwhelming sometimes, so mostly Harry avoids it with partners he doesn't know well. 

But this is Nick. 

Nick, who had been the first one to gently finger Harry open, to fuck him and hold him through the tears that had welled up against his will as he slowly knit himself back together after. 

It's been ages, but Harry wants this from Nick. He needs it here today, in the fading Spanish sunlight. "Please," he says again, pressing his bum back into Nick's hands. 

"Pushy." It's more a whisper than anything else, a tiny wisp of breath against Harry's lips. 

Harry whines when Nick's hands leave him, and Nick laughs. There's a small, fond smile on his face, and his eyes are nearly glowing. The hum of people outside on the terrace has grown louder as the sun goes down, but they're so high above it. It's been like this all day, even as they've had to go out in the world to get here. 

Nick comes back with two slick fingers and rubs them gently over Harry's hole, not doing much more than applying a tiny bit of pressure and making sure he's slick and wet. Harry's going to have to move from where he's draped on top of Nick eventually, since the angle is horrifically awkward, but not just yet. With Nick's leg hooked over his, and Nick's dick pressed into his hip it's comfortable. He says as much out loud. 

"Very romantic, Harry." He's taking the piss, but only a little. And more importantly he's pushing one long finger inside Harry. "You should write songs."

Harry pushes back against him, feeling a hint of desperation starting to build with each small movement of Nick's fingers. He slips another one in alongside the first and Harry bites at Nick's neck. This is why Harry rarely does this with anyone; He's already falling apart, vision going hazy around the edges. He has to swim up through the fog to give Nick a suitably sarcastic response. 

"I'll call the next album _fucking comfortable_ and dedicate it to you." Harry's never written an album that doesn't have a song about Nick, but he's not about to say _that_ out loud.

"Make it proper artsy," Nick says. "Black and white photos on the cover. Nude, of course, but tastefully covered. I'll even wax for the occasion." He twists his fingers and adds a third. Nick has ridiculously long fingers but from this angle he's not getting nearly deep enough. 

"Want my camera right now," Harry says. "You're gorgeous. You'd make an excellent album cover. I'd sell millions." 

"I'm sure the light's doing wonders for my wrinkles." 

Harry likes Nick's laugh lines. He won't stand for anyone insulting them, not even Nick, so he kisses Nick quiet, and then some. Kisses him until they're both rutting against each other, Nick's fingers still in Harry's arse, holding him open. 

Without looking, Harry stretches his arm out to feel around the space he saw Nick put the condom earlier. It takes a bit of flailing, and they're both laughing by the time he finds it. "Aha!" He smiles and waves the foil packet in front of Nick's nose, watching as he goes a bit crosseyed trying to focus before he tries to snatch it back. 

Harry moves away, sliding down Nick's body which unfortunately makes him withdraw his fingers, but has the bonus of letting him keep the condom. He opens it and sits back on Nick's legs, sliding the condom down Nick's cock and pumping it a few times with added lube. Partly to prepare Nick, but also just because he loves the way Nick twitches in his hand when Harry rubs his thumb over the tip. 

He plays with Nick for another minute before kneeling up and positioning himself over Nick. He grabs Nick's non-slick hand and laces their fingers together, using his other to hold Nick's cock in position as he sinks down, biting his lip through the worst of the stretch. He'd gone fast on purpose, wanting to feel this for a while, but it doesn't mean it doesn't burn at the same time. Nick wipes his hand on the sheets before bringing it up to Harry's face to wipe at the tears gathering in his eyes. He _knows_. 

"Still?" he asks quietly. It's been half a dozen years since the last time, nearly twice that since the first time, and it's just as overwhelmingly intimate for Harry to literally let someone inside him. He's spent so long portioning out pieces of himself for wide audiences, but this is something that he's only let a very few people have. 

Harry nods and carefully lowers himself so that he's lying on Nick's chest and can bury his face in Nick's neck. Nick plays with his hair while Harry gets his breath back and can start moving. 

He's maybe not used quite enough lube because Nick drags inside him. It doesn't feel bad, but it doesn't particularly feel good either. Not yet. Not until Nick reaches behind him again and starts fingering his rim in time with Harry's thrust. Not seeking to get a finger inside, but just feeling them, feeling where they're joined. 

That tiny extra touch causes sparks to reverberate down Harry's spine and he cries out against Nick's mouth, breaking away only when he speeds up too much to keep kissing him. Nick's hand stays where it is. 

Nick is usually a talker, taking sex the way he takes everything else in life, loudly, but not tonight. The light outside is growing dim, the sky fading from orange and pink back to blue-black, but Harry hasn't forgotten the sun-warm glow that had been on them from earlier. He can feel the echo of the heat in Nick's fingers. 

Harry rolls his hips each time he sits back, bracing himself on Nick's chest, their fingers still twined together. As he speeds up, he brings their hands between them to touch his own dick which has been mostly forgotten for a while. He jumps when he manages to get their hands wrapped around himself and moving more or less the way he likes to jerk himself. 

Like this, it doesn't take long for everything he's feeling to drag inwards to his spine and burst out again. He spills over their fingers and onto Nick's chest, smearing his come into Nick's chest hair. Nick makes a face at him, but Harry slides two slick fingers into Nick's mouth to keep him from actually complaining and breaking the spell of the evening. Nick bites down gently, but smooths it over quickly with his tongue. 

Now that he's come, Harry's getting almost too sensitive to keep going, but Nick's right with him for every thrust, getting his feet under him and shoving his hips up while Harry grinds down on him. He doesn't take his fingers out of Nick's mouth, but he knows when Nick's getting close because Nick squeezes Harry's thigh and sucks harder. Harry's cock twitches in response, though he's not actually eighteen anymore, and he can't quite get it up again in the immediate aftermath. 

"Come on," he urges Nick. He's nearly shivering now, so sensitive to each swipe of Nick's tongue and press of Nick's fingers on his rim. 

When Nick comes he sucks in a breath around Harry's fingers, and it's exactly what he sounds like when he's trying to recover from a huge laughing fit. Harry slows down and lays down on Nick's chest, legs still splayed out and folded along Nick's side. 

Harry bites one last tiny mark into Nick's neck before lifting up just enough to look at Nick. "Was that alright?"

Nick doesn't answer, just carefully pulls out and tosses the condom aside so he can spill them onto their sides, and Harry stretches out his legs with a grateful sigh. He can feel where he's going to be sore tomorrow, but it'll be welcome. 

They're both sweaty and getting stickier by the minute as the humid night descends on them, but Harry doesn't want to move. And it seems that Nick doesn't either, because he just laces their fingers together again and sighs into Harry's mouth.

~*~ 

"Are we going out tonight?" Harry asks when they're halfway through a bottle of wine and waiting for the rest of their dinner to arrive. They're sitting in a fairly secluded corner of the terrace overlooking the ocean and they've ordered what feels like half the menu; both of them had emerged from their separate showers horrifically hungry.

Nick yawns, and then frowns and takes a larger than average sip of his wine. "Do you want to?" 

Harry shrugs and fights back a yawn himself. He's alert, but tired, and he's not opposed to stretching out in bed with Nick and a few episodes of the Simpsons until they both fall asleep. 

"Can do if you want."

They've both left their phones in the room, carrying nothing down to the table with them except for their room keys. "Maybe just a walk on the beach?" 

The water is beautifully calm and the moon's just past full, with just a hair shaved off the edge making it less than round. 

"If I didn't know better, Harry Styles, I'd say you were a hopeless romantic." He punctuates the sentiment by slurping his oyster as loud as he possibly can before tearing a lobster in half to get at the meat in the tail. 

"Maybe a bit," Harry agrees. "But it's a nice view. And the water will feel nice." 

"A _nice view_? What are we, eighty?" 

"Nope. Twenty eight and nearly thirty eight and on holiday." He nudges Nick's foot with his own since his hands are taken with his own lobster now. 

"Proper old marrieds we are." 

It's a joke, it's just a joke because Nick can't resist snarky comments. Still, Harry has to stop picking at his lobster carcass, as delicious as it is, so he can look up at Nick. He's got a full-toothed shit-eating grin on his face, and while that's normally a favorite expression of Harry's right now it's leaving him feeling cold and a bit alone. He shivers, and covers it by lobbing a piece of shell at Nick's head. He's gratified when it sticks in his hair. 

"A food fight?' 

"I'll show you old, Nicholas." Harry pelts him with two olive pits, an oyster shell and a half-eaten piece of bread in quick succession. The bread lands in his hair and Nick fishes it out while making a face before dropping it on the far corner of the table. 

Harry doesn't let Nick refuse dessert, ("we're on _holiday_ ") so it's much later by the time they wander out of the villa and down towards the beach. There's a fair number of people on the beach, but no one pays them any attention, so Harry shucks his sandals and sinks his toes into the cool, wet sand at the water's edge. 

Nick is walking along and fiddling with his hair like his hands are looking for something to do, so Harry bends down on the pretense of examining a shell at the waters edge, and scoops up handful of water, flinging at Nick, before running off down the beach. 

He doesn't care that he's acting about sixteen years old. He'll blame it on the full moon. That's a thing.

~*~ 

There's a loud knocking on the door the next morning and Harry groans before rolling over. It's too fucking early for this shit. He grabs Nick's shirt and buries his face in it, curling around him to block out the outside world.

Nick holds tight to him, hand finding Harry's without either of them fully waking up.

The knocking doesn't go away.

"Go away! Nobody's home!" Nick groans and pulls the sheets up over them. Harry's never wished for soundproofing more in his life.

"We can hear you, asshole!" Of course it's Aimee. And probably everyone else since they were all on the same flight.

"Wrong room!" Nick croaks out. Harry squints at the alarm clock on the night stand. It's nearing noon already, but this is what being on holiday is for.

"Happy Birthday," he whispers into Nick's shirt.

"Make her go away. It'll be your present to me."

Harry kisses him and then stumbles out of bed, reaching for one of the towels they'd left on the floor last night after another late, long shower, since his bags are still unopened and in the other room.

The knocking on the door doesn't go away as he's stumbling forward to open it, and when he does he finds Aimee's grinning face on the other side, along with everyone else.

"Who gave you this room number?"

They breeze past him into the living area and balcony. Henry puts on the kettle and Pixie starts rooting around in the cabinets for mugs. They all match and it's weird.

"Please. Like you weren't going to book this one once you decided to come with us." She hits him on the shoulder and he sways away before coming back to throw an arm around her.

His towel falls down just as Nick comes into the room, but everyone here is a friend and Harry's never been shy, so he just leaves it on the floor. Even Ian doesn't seem to mind.

Of course that could be because he's gone out to the balcony with Daisy, and is looking out towards the ocean.

It's not that their friends don't know about the two of them, but it's rather unusual for Nick to come in, pry Amiee's arm away and press Harry against the kitchen counter. The kiss is warm and lazy, and Harry wraps his arms around Nick's neck, smiling into his mouth because the small world of their friends might have come down on them, but it seems that it hasn't changed anything.

Eventually someone pinches his bum just when his cock is starting to thicken up in response to having Nick pressed up against him. Probably good timing then. He sheepishly picks up his towel and disappears to the master bedroom to put some clothes on.

Everyone's sprawled out around the common spaces with cups of tea and iced drinks. There's a small spot on the sofa on the balcony next to Nick, which probably isn't big enough for a whole person even if Harry's hips are pretty narrow, but that's never stopped him before. He'd rather sit on Nick's lap anyway.

"Awww look at them," Daisy says.

"It's pretty cute when they've both got clothes," Pixie agrees.

Harry buries his face in Nick's neck, but he can't block out anyone's voice. 

"Pretty hot when they don't." Aimee says. 

Nick laughs and Harry can feel it.

"Do we need to check our rooms for cameras then?" He asks, lifting up his head.

"They haven't been here long enough." Nick lays a comforting hand on Harry's knee.

Aimee studies her nails. "You clearly don't know me very well." She moves on to looking at the two of them with slightly narrowed eyes. She's got ombre hair now that looks like a sunset, pink-orange strands hanging down over her shoulders. "Did you two get married last night?"

"He threw bread at me last night." Nick points out, which is the truth.

"She's got a point," Ian says.

Harry picks up Nick's left hand and shows off his empty ring finger. "You really think we'd do it without a party?"

~*~ 

They end up with a long table on the terrace for lunch, with more and more friends trickling in as the day wears on. There's sangria and oysters and sun, and Harry sticks by Nick's side for the whole afternoon, even after the move from the terrace dining area to the pool.

Siestas, Harry is quite sure, are the best part of a holiday in Spain. It means that he has an excuse to drag Nick back up to their room and out onto the sun-drenched balcony where he can fall to his knees and take his time taking Nick apart with his mouth.

In Harry's opinion, it's worth every bit of teasing they get when they reappear for dinner, Harry unable to wipe the flush off his face, or sit still.

~*~ 

They get a yacht and take it out on Monday. It's packed to the gills with food for lunch and dinner, along with a generous selection of wines and beer and other drinks. Harry heads straight for the cushioned benches at the front of the boat, and drags Nick with him, stretching out on towels in the sun. Once everyone is settled and the boat is moving, the logic in choosing this spot becomes clear — they can feel the wind whipping up off the water and providing the perfect counterpoint to the blazing sun.

Nick's sunglasses cover about half of his face, but he's smiling wide and completely sprawled out on the cushions. The direct sunlight bleaches out pretty much everything but the freckles on his shoulders, and Harry leans close so he can easily turn his head and mouth at them. 

Nick tastes like sunblock mostly, which isn't the best thing in the world, and is in fact very chemical-y and gross, so Harry steals Nick's drink and downs half of it before pulling Nick into a lazy sun-warm kiss. He's still got a fairly tall quiff and the wind whips it around their faces, tickling Harry until he can't hold his grin in anymore and breaks the kiss. 

There's wild applause scattered around the deck, and when Harry looks up there's at least three phones pointed at them. 

"Look at these honeymooning fuckers," Pix says, passing her phone around. Harry will have to get her to send him a copy of whatever picture she took. For all the pictures of the two of them over the years there aren't all that many of _them_. Nick's frowning a tiny bit though, so Harry swipes his drink and finishes it, before taking himself inside the cabin to fetch a few new ones. 

After about an hour they pull into a sheltered cove with an empty beach and drop the anchor, and Harry immediately dives into the water, vaulting over the railing at the front to do so. The water is clear and cool, and Harry takes a few laps around the boat before climbing back out onto the deck. 

He shakes his hair out all over Nick. Then goes back inside and comes back with more drinks for both of them, and a plate of fruit to put out in the middle of the deck in case anyone's hungry.

~*~ 

Nick makes it off the boat without hurting himself, only to fall over on the pool deck the next day and slice his arm open. Harry had been in the water when he'd seen Nick stumble, and pulls himself out without even thinking about it, snatching up the nearest towel as he goes. He doesn't care who was using it before.

Harry's not overly fond of blood, but Nick is worse, so Harry keeps up a steady stream of stupid comments to keep Nick from panicking too much where he's still sitting on the ground. Everyone's mostly standing around and laughing. 

"Eh, it's not a proper holiday until Nick bleeds," Annie says. Aimee starts pointing out various scars on his legs from previous years, and soon enough the circle around them is laughing and retelling bits of stories from all of their holidays. Harry's heard most of them before, but there's a sharp stab in his heart that he wasn't able to be there for any of it. While he'd not change a single thing about his life because he'd never be here otherwise, there's still a tiny, jealous part of him that wishes he'd been able to be here sooner. Maybe if he'd fought for them on that one trip, so many years ago. 

As everyone chatters above their heads, the color comes back into Nick's face and Harry helps him to his feet, keeping a gentle pressure on his elbow. It's cool inside and it doesn't take long for them to find someone with access to plasters and antiseptic. It's not a huge cut, but they wrap a long strip of gauze around it anyway, warn him not to go into the water for at least a day, and tell him to come back if the bandage does happen to get wet. 

Half an hour after the whole ordeal, everything is back to normal, and Nick is complaining that he's going to get weird tanlines from the bandage. 

"Get a spray tan when we get home," Harry says. "It's not like your tan is completely natural anyway." 

Nick frowns, but only manages to hold it for half a second. "Go get us another drink, will you?" 

Harry does, but not without drawing Nick in for a gentle kiss first. And then he lets it go on for a while, until someone starts in on the now familiar chorus of _Awwwwwwwww_ paired with exaggerated kissy noises. Harry sticks two fingers up behind his head; he'll finish kissing Nick when he's good and ready, not before. 

He comes back with two fresh drinks and a bag of ice, which he gently holds against Nick's elbow as he settles into the other side of the chair, one arm reaching across Nick to hold the ice pack in place. He falls asleep like that, and wakes up to Nick awkwardly trying to rub sun cream into his shoulders.

~*~ 

The next morning, Harry manages to wake up before noon despite not getting in until nearly sunrise (it's alright, he can nap later), and gently kisses Nick awake before going down to the gym. He runs until he's wobbly — which doesn't take all that long given how much they'd drank last night — and then spends some time by the pool doing yoga.

When he gets back to the room, there's a smoothie on the counter for him. He downs about half of it in one go, and then wanders into his bedroom to change. He doesn't bother with a shower because they'll just be in the pool in a minute anyway. He's got his shirt over his head when Aimee's voice cuts through from the balcony. 

At least he's found Nick. Not that he'd really wander far. 

"Where is Harry anyway?" Aimee asks. 

"Gym, I think. Woke me up before he left but I wasn't really awake." 

"Nice of him." 

Nick must give some sort of a non-verbal answer because Harry can't hear any response. Of course he'd made sure Nick was awake. He knows better than to bugger off and let Nick wake up _alone_. 

"And you made him a smoothie." There's a teasing edge to Aimee's voice that makes Harry smile. It's a delicious smoothie, too. Just the right balance of banana and orange with strawberries and mango. And probably more things. Nick may not be able to stick to his health crazes, but Harry tends to. 

Nick's voice is very nearly casual when he answers. "I was up, and I figured he'd be back soon. And it was quick. Made it while my coffee was on." 

"Quick, hmm? Didn't take you four hours to make a smoothie?" 

Harry takes this as an excellent time to walk out, and he's right. Nick's in the middle of attacking Aimee, coffees both on the side table between her chair and the sofa Nick's sitting on. Harry sinks down onto the cushion next to Nick and throws an arm around his back and a leg over his lap, just because he can. 

He also kisses Nick hello, slow and lazily, not actually caring that Aimee's there. It's nothing she hasn't seen anyway. She's seen a lot more than a good morning kiss, truth be told. 

"Morning," Harry says, smiling against Nick's lips. Eventually he pulls back because he's still got half a smoothie and it'll get warm. "He still on about that pie?"

Nick blushes. "Shurrup. It was a good pie. And serves you right for asking for something so weird."

"It looked good. And you'd offered to cook anything I wanted."

"Yeah, I did, didn't I?" He kisses Harry softly. 

"Soppy bastards," Aimee says. "When's the wedding? I think my invite got lost in the mail." 

"You're disgusting," Nick says, poking Harry in the thigh. He's probably talking to Aimee, but he could be talking to Harry. It might also be true. Harry's not bothered to put a shirt back on, because why would he do that? And he's just wearing his old yellow swim shorts now, because he's pretty sure he wants to spend the rest of the day on this balcony, by the pool or on the beach. Maybe some combination of all three. They haven't taken nearly enough advantage of the private bungalow that came with the room. Harry's starting to get a tanline again.

Harry kisses Nick again, just for fun. And because he hadn't missed the slight frown on Nick's face at Aimee's comment.

~*~ 

The club is hot and steamy and gritty. There's a packed full dance floor that looks extremely inviting, so despite the booth they've got on the upper levels, Harry drags Nick down to the floor almost as soon as they finish their first round of drinks.

He's never been much of a dancer, but this isn't really dancing. At least, it's not got any choreography. All that matters is the hot press of bodies and the strong beat. Harry knows he probably looks like a bit of an idiot with his head thrown back and his arms up, jumping around, but he doesn't actually care. He grins wide and looks over at Nick, pressed close at his side, who grins back. 

Harry wants to lean in those few inches for a kiss, but this isn't really the time. For all that he's dated plenty of men over the years, he's never made a huge statement about it, and even though neither of them has exactly the same type of obsessive audiences that they used to, making that sort of statement in the middle of a crowded dance floor seems like a poor move. He grabs Nick's hand instead and twists around so that his back is plastered against Nick, and lets Nick wrap his arms around Harry's waist. 

It's even warmer, pressed together like this, grinding with the ever-changing beat, letting the music thrum through their bones. Nick leans forward and mouths at Harry's neck, just under his ear, where he _knows_ Harry likes it best, and Harry grinds back against Nick's cock in retaliation. 

"We playing dirty then, Styles?" Nick says right in Harry's ear. 

Harry rolls his eyes and then rolls his hips, reaching back to get his hands on Nick's waist and hold him close. He manages to get a few fingers under Nick's shirt and scrapes his nails over his skin, feeling the full body shiver that it gets him. 

"Always," Harry says with a pinch. Nick's not one to like it rough, that's Harry's thing, but the rules are definitely changing for the moment. They've done this before, teasing each other in public, but with the energy of everyone else around them and everything else that's happened in the last month, it's different. It's more, somehow. Nicks' fingers burn where they touch, especially when he trails them down to dig into Harry's thighs. 

Harry's dick is responding, too, where it's trapped against his hip. He twists and dips a bit so that Nick's hands brush over him, not giving any pressure or friction to help get him off, but adding to the recklessness pulsing through him. 

He spins around and nudges his nose against Nick's cheek, near to a kiss. He won't actually do it because it's absolutely not the time for it, but he can feel Nick's breath, sticky and warm, on his lips. 

"This working for you?" He rolls his hips against Nick, sliding his thigh between Nick's and inching closer. 

Nick doesn't back away, and he's laughing. Harry always thinks Nick looks handsome, but up close he's absolutely magnificent, laugh lines deepening as he beams at Harry. Harry smiles back, helpless to do anything else. 

He tucks his fingers down into Harry's belt. "Nah, I'm not really bothered." 

Harry has to bury his face in Nick's neck because he can feel exactly how bothered Nick is. 

Before he can do anything else, they're nearly knocked over by Aimee. "This looks cozy. Can I join?" 

Nick pulls back an inch, letting a tiny bit of the steamy air between them again, and Aimee slips into the space like she belongs there. She very much doesn't, much as Harry loves her. She smirks when she starts dancing and feels the both of them. She's facing Nick, her arms thrown around his neck. "Thought I might have to break up the party." 

"Nothing was going to happen," Nick says. Or, at least that's Harry thinks he's saying, he's only catching about every third word between the beats and his lip reading has never been all that great. 

Harry puts on his best grumpy face because yes, they'd been doing something. A very nice something that could be finished hours later. 

Aimee pats the side of his face. "I'll just go back to my husband then, and let you get on with yours." 

Nick frowns after her, and even though Harry steps right back into what he's claimed as his space, the mood is broken. They slink back to their booth after another minute and order a new round of drinks. 

When Nick goes to say hello to the DJ, a good friend of Annie's and someone he's known for years back in London, Pixie slides into his seat at Harry's side. "Aims told me what happened." She nods towards the floor.

Harry just shrugs. It's not that big of a deal, and Harry doesn't really need to talk through every tiny bit of his relationship, whatever it is at the moment, with Nick. "It wasn't anything, really. Just a bit of fun." 

"He's doing a lot better since you've been back," Pixie says. Harry's hunched down low so he can hear her more easily when she speaks. "You two actually going to get it together this time?" 

Pixie was there the first time, as was nearly everyone else at the table. But she was one of the ones who was also out in Los Angeles with him sometimes. Harry loves her a lot, and he'd spent many nights in her hotel room or at his house drinking and talking. He doesn't remember all of those nights, but he's pretty sure he told her a lot. 

Still, he doesn't want to spoil this bubble before he makes sure of things. "Maybe. Haven't really dated anyone in a while," he confesses. "I wasn't really waiting for James to leave, but—" 

She hugs him and doesn't let him finish that sentence. "Alright princess," she says, knocking back the last half of her drink in one go, "I've not got you to myself all week. Let's dance." 

Harry follows her back out to the floor. 

They don't end up in the middle where he'd been dancing with Nick, sticking to the sides instead, where they have more room to laugh and twirl each other around. It's easy to get a bit lost in the beat, and he doesn't need to fight too hard to keep from sneaking looks at Nick, where he's hanging out in the DJ booth. Harry isn't sure whether Nick can see them at all, with the flashing lights and fog. Probably not. He keeps squinting out at the floor, and even when he looks right at them he doesn't do anything different.

Harry stays out on the floor until he's danced off the buzz from the drinks earlier, until his shirt is soaked through and turned sheer, until his hair is completely damp and hanging down in his face. He shakes it off and keeps dancing anyway. Alexa comes down for a while, and brings them a few bottles of water. 

"You alright?" Alexa asks, plastering herself against Harry's side. She's looking past him and up at the booth. Last time Harry had looked, Nick had an arm slung around that friend of the DJ.

He shrugs. He is. He will be. Whatever. "Sure."

Alexa hugs him and lands a big smacking kiss on his cheek, right on his dimple, probably leaving a bright red lip print in the process. 

When she leaves the floor, Harry goes with her. 

There's still half a bottle of vodka in the middle of the table, and Harry is completely sober again, so he grabs the bottle and takes a giant gulp from it. Harry can't see the DJ booth from his seat at the table and he can't quite decide if that's a good or bad thing. 

What he does know is that Nick doesn't come back, and then they're all kicked out at closing just as the sky is starting to break and turn light.

~*~ 

Back in their suite, Harry strips and collapses onto his own bed after a quick shower to wash off the sweat. He's sleepy and exhausted, but the blackout curtains aren't quite able to block out the day. Or at least, they can't block out his thoughts. He's checked his phone too many times, until he'd worn the battery down that last little bit. He hadn't bothered plugging it back in, not interested in how much Nick wasn't texting him to tell him where he'd gone. Pixie had offered to come back with him, probably after seeing his face as they'd spilled out into the pre-dawn light with the rest of the crowd, but Harry had shaken her off, not wanting to share a bed with anyone who wasn't Nick.

Harry is just about to give up on sleep for the night when the door opens. 

He smells like smoke and someone else's shampoo, his hair damp where it hits Harry's bare shoulder when he falls into bed and cuddles up to Harry. Harry can't help but shift closer, and he loops an arm around Nick's shoulder, holding him tight. It almost feels right; this is where they should end up after a night out, after a night out together. Except for how Nick smells wrong and Harry had climbed into bed on his own. 

Nick kisses him, barely more than a quick _hello_ and brush of lips, but Harry turns into it and opens up, gripping Nick's shirt tightly and holding on for everything he's got. Maybe Nick will be able to read the slight air of desperation that Harry can't shake, maybe he won't, but right now all that matters is that he's here. 

That they always come back to each other. 

Always. 

Through all of it, the long minutes kissing and fitting themselves back together, Harry doesn't open his eyes. With one last sigh, Nick breaks away and moves to the other pillow to sleep. Harry's still in that half-asleep state, but the loss hurts, even though he knows it's just because Nick hates people breathing on him. Harry doesn't let him get away with it, though. He needs Nick close right now, so he moves into those abandoned inches of space and tangles his foot into Nick's, resting his hand on Nick's chest. He falls asleep while he's trying to feel for Nick's heartbeat under his fingers.

~*~ 

When he wakes up properly, he's alone in the bed and the doors to the balcony are open. Harry finds Nick out there with a coffee in one hand and his phone in the other. Harry drops down into the spot next to him and steals the coffee. It's bitter and strong but serves it's purpose to wake him up. His eyes still feel gritty, so he rubs at them a bit and snuggles back into Nick's side.

Harry eventually hands the cup back, and looks at Nick. His eyes are rimmed in red, too, and Harry reaches up to press a finger at the corner, right on top of the wrinkles Nick's been trying to get rid of for ages. 

It's unusually quiet this morning. None of their friends have barged in on them yet, probably all still sleeping off the hangovers from last night. They'll turn up soon, though. 

Nick reaches over to run his thumb across Harry's lips and Harry leans into the touch. These are the moments he likes best, the quiet ones, when it's just the two of them sequestered away from the rest of the world. 

"What are we doing, Harry?" 

Harry can't breathe. He's pretty sure he knew how to do that a second ago. 

"It's not like before is it?" Nick's voice has a tremor in it that makes him sound somewhere between scared and unsure. It's not a good sound on him. Harry still can't breathe, so he just shakes his head. 

Nick doesn't speak for a while. He lets his hand drop to his lap and turns his attention to his fingers where they're wrapped around his mug. Harry gently takes it from him and sets it aside wrapping his hands around both of Nick's. "It's not," he eventually manages. "Nick —" 

Harry wants to kiss him, to tell him without words exactly what's happening here, because it's different, it's everything. Everything they never let themselves promise each other before, when it wasn't the right time. 

When he leans forward, Nick leans back. Harry's breath is gone again. 

"Fuck," he says, and lets go of Nick's hands. 

"I'm sorry. Shit, I'm so sorry." Nick grabs for Harry's hands but Harry pulls them away and picks himself up from where he's leaning against Nick, needing a bit of space between them. 

When Harry manages to look at him, his face looks tired, as tired as it had when Harry had got back to London. 

"It's just — It's only been a month since. Since he left." Nick sounds wrecked, like the words are forcing themselves out of Nick's throat against his will. Harry very carefully doesn't think about what else Nick might have been doing last night to make his throat sound that awful. "I love you, Haz, you know that. You're too important to me to be a rebound." 

Harry wants to scream, yell, keep Nick from saying anything else, make him take back what he's just said, except that he needs to keep part of it forever. _Too important_ , he'd said. They've always been important to each other. Too important to let themselves _be_ before the timing was right. 

Harry thought that was now. He thought they were on the same page. 

He thought wrong. 

There's nothing to do but nod, more to let Nick know that he'd heard than telling him that he agrees, and get up. Harry closes the balcony door when he gets inside his room, shutting himself off from Nick for a bit. The fairytale spell that's been hanging over them all week, ever since he got back, is broken. Harry changes quickly and goes down to the gym. 

Nick's not there when he gets back, but there is a smoothie waiting on the counter.

~*~ 

They've only got a few more days in Spain, and while Harry is normally one to enjoy every last hour of his holiday, right now he can't wait to get back to work. Everyone notices the way they're not all over each other all day anymore, but unless they're talking to Nick privately about it, none of them have said anything.

It's not like they're not friends, either. But Harry doesn't automatically drop into Nick's lap even when there's another space available at the table or around the pool. Nick doesn't make straight for Harry's side after they've been off doing separate things for a while. 

Friday afternoon, when they're all sipping cool, fruity drinks around the pool, Harry sees Annie sit down next to Nick and drag him into a quiet conversation. He's too far away to hear, but not far enough that he misses the frown on Nick's face or the way his eyes flick over to Harry pretty frequently. Harry doesn't bother to hide that he's watching them, there's no real point. It's only Pixie that manages to distract him, mostly by replacing the melted drink in his hand with a fresh one. 

"Come down to the beach with me?" 

Harry stumbles a bit down the uneven stone steps and clings to Pixie, but they only stumble harder when they hit the soft sand. Harry loses a tiny bit of his drink, and licks the sticky remnants off the back of his hand while Pixie adjusts her hat and glasses. 

Even with sunglasses on, the glare off the water is bright enough to nearly blind him, so he keeps his eye on the edges of the waves that come up to lap at his feet, leaving trails of foam behind. Their footprints are half washed out by the time they get five steps away, and Harry's always loved the idea of a clean slate. 

Pixie isn't asking him questions, but he knows she's thinking them, so he eventually answers, once his drink is gone and he's left crunching the ice. His dentist is forever telling him to stop that, he'll chip his teeth, but there's something overly satisfying about it anyway. He's picked up a number of bad habits over the years; chewing ice is probably the least of them. 

"He doesn't think it's time yet." Harry stops and digs his toes into the sand, right at the edge of the water, feeling himself sink a tiny bit each time it washes back out. He likes the feeling, and makes a note to somehow turn it into a song. Losing a piece of yourself each time someone walks away. It'll be for Nick. It's fucking always for Nick. 

She wraps her arms around his waist and starts sinking into the sand with him. If there's a more perfect metaphor for friendship Harry's pretty sure he'll never find one. "He's an idiot." 

Harry can't disagree with her, even though that old protective urge still curls in his chest whenever someone insults Nick. Even someone who was his friend first. "My idiot, though." 

"Take him off our hands," Pixie says, laughing into Harry's chest. She smiles up at him bright and easy. "We're all well ready to be rid of him." 

They stay like that for what feels like ages, while the rest of the world trudges through the sand behind them. Pixie moves first, stamping her feet a bit to dig them out. "Just give him a bit more time," she says, rising on her toes to kiss his cheek. 

Harry wants to grumble that he's given enough. They've known each other for a decade, they've known what they are to each other nearly as long, even if they haven't ever really talked it through. Harry, at least, had known the first time they'd had sex, when he'd stumbled into a car the morning after and couldn't stop smiling to himself and touching the marks Nick had left on his neck and shoulders and thighs. He'd tried so hard to keep them longer by pressing his own fingers against them, but they'd still faded a few days later. Nick had put them all back, and then some, the next time Harry had found the time to crawl back to London and into Nick's bed. 

Instead of reclaiming his own chair when they get back to the pool, Harry goes over to Nick's and stretches out next to him on the narrow chair. Nick moves to the side a few inches so that Harry's more solidly on the chair, and wraps his arms around him. It feels almost normal, and Harry soon falls asleep in the sun.

~*~ 

Everyone goes out again that night, but Nick doesn't pull anyone, or if he does (he spends an awful long time in the toilets somewhere around three in the morning) he doesn't go back with them. Instead, they all leave together, squashing into as few taxis as possible, even though it's not necessary to split the bill that many ways to make it affordable. It's more for efficiency, since there's a hellishly long queue for the taxis on the street outside.

Harry disappears into his own bathroom to get ready for bed, and Nick does the same. Harry's almost asleep when Nick comes in and slides into bed with him. It's warm enough that Nick doesn't cuddle up right into Harry's side, but his hand does find Harry's where it's lying next to his head.

When Sunday afternoon comes, Harry is both ready and reluctant to leave. The spell from the early week had shattered rather spectacularly on Friday morning, but he's still had Nick sharing his bed, and he's rather sad to be packing to go back to London, where the rest of the world will crash into this bubble they've been in. 

Harry is zipping his suitcase closed with Nick flops down on the bed next to it. 

"I hate packing." 

Harry flops down next to him after moving his case to the floor. It's the last few minutes they'll be in this bed together, and Harry can't resist shimmying closer so he can line them up and kiss Nick slowly, luxuriously, as if they have all the time in the world, even though he's expecting the call saying their car is ready for them any minute. 

Nick's fingers are hesitant as he strokes down Harry's face and tucks Harry's hair back behind his ear. 

"Shhh," Harry says, kissing him before he can protest. "We're still on holiday." Harry nudges Nick's legs with his own until they fall open and Harry can slip a thigh between Nick's. Neither of them make a move to take anything further, since they're both well aware of the time limits. 

There's a few smirks and knowing looks when they emerge outside where the cars are waiting, but they don't say anything, and no one asks. Harry catches Pixie raising her eyebrows at him, silently asking him if Nick's come around, and Harry just shakes his head. 

It's probably stupid to carry on like nothing's changed, but maybe Harry won't get his heart broken this time.

~*~ 

The problem is that nothing changes when they get home. Harry orders them dinner while Nick unpacks, and they eat together in the family room and watch some of the telly that they've missed while on holiday. Nick does the washing up and they both go upstairs to Nick's room and follow the same routine that they'd fallen into before leaving for Ibiza.

Harry finishes cleaning his teeth first, and he waits in bed for Nick, who falls into his side of the bed and draws close to Harry immediately. Harry really should say something, but Nick reaches out and traces his fingers down Harry's jaw, and he's helpless to resist when Nick is right there. 

They kiss until Harry's nearly asleep, and the last thing Harry remembers before falling asleep are Nick's fingers digging into his hip and holding tight.

~*~ 

Holmes Chapel is as sleepy as it's ever been when Harry pulls up to his mum's house late in the afternoon. There are a few people out on the streets, but mostly it's perfectly quiet and spread out, a sharp contrast to London where everyone is crowded together. It hasn't changed much in the decade and some he's been gone, and it's soothing.

Anne immediately makes him tea and they take it out into the garden in the fading sunlight, his mum's new cat sniffing curiously around his boots and twitching her tail at him, skittering away any time he tries to reach down and pet her. 

"She'll warm up to you," Anne says, as the kitten jumps into her lap. Harry can hear her purring two seconds later as Anne delicately scratches under her chin. It's odd, coming home and not finding Dusty waiting for him. Just one more thing that's changed since he left. His mum looks older too. She's still gorgeous, he'll always think she's gorgeous, but she's older. He doesn't like to think of his mum getting older. It's not alright. 

They're halfway through their tea and shared plate of biscuits before Anne speaks again. Harry's a bit lost in his thoughts, wondering what his life would be like now if he hadn't gone in for X Factor. Wonders if he'd have ever moved down to London like he wanted. Maybe he'd be planning that now. 

"I spoke to Gemma the other day." Anne's got a sly smile on her face, and her eyes are shining. He knows what she's going to ask about, but Harry hasn't spoken to Gemma since Spain; he's only been back for a night, and he'd spent it in Nick's bed trying to recapture a tiny bit of the holiday before life crashed in on them again. 

Harry had woken up alone. 

"It's not…" Harry chokes a bit and takes a sip of his tepid tea. "We're not anything. Nothing new." 

Anne's voice is gentle when she speaks again. "Oh love. Gemma seemed so excited." 

Harry has to blink back tears before he can look at her again, and it takes a long time to go through the full story, from Nick calling in the middle of the night to his birthday party to Spain and everything that had happened. Edited, of course, because his mum doesn't need to know that he's had sex. By the time he's finished, his tea is long gone and the kitten has clawed its way up his leg and is playing with the buttons on his old plaid shirt. 

Come to think of it, this one might have been Nick's first. Whatever, it's comfortable. 

Anne reaches for his hand and squeezes it. The sun up here has a more muted feel than it had in Ibiza, but it's still warm, and Harry soaks it up, turning his face and closing his eyes. "I thought it was time." 

"It will be soon enough." There's a rustling, and the kitten digs her claws into his lap before jumping off, and then his mum has her arms around him and is landing a kiss on his forehead and messing up his hair. "Now, come to the shops with me and pick out what you want for tea."

~*~ 

Harry stays up at his mum's until the weekend, since all he's doing are virtual meetings and he can do that from the kitchen table as well as anywhere else. And his mum keeps up a steady supply of coffee and tea, no matter how many times he tells her she doesn't need to. It's a bit nice to be fussed over since he'd up and left home so young and missed out on coming home for it in Uni.

Nick texts, mostly with stupid things from his day and questions about when Harry's coming home. After lunch on Saturday Harry thinks it's probably time. 

"Tell me if you want me to come down and rough him up a bit," Anne says as Harry's climbing into his car. She'd never do it, she loves Nick too much. Maybe she'd give him a bit of a clip 'round the ear, but that's about it. "I'm serious!" Her smile gives her away. 

Harry kisses her on the cheek one more time through his open window, promises to text her when he arrives because she still insists every time he travels, and then he's on the road headed home. 

As soon as he walks in the door he's hit with a wave of deja vu; there's music reverberating through the house and Harry very quickly finds Nick on the sofa in the family room, laptop on his lap, squinting at the screen. Harry drops down on the sofa next to him and puts his head in Nick's lap. 

"Oh you're back." Nick sets the computer aside and digs his fingers into Harry's hair. Nick's fingers are always so wonderful. "Left behind the wonders of Cheshire for dreary old London?" 

Harry pokes him in the side. His smile looks good even at this weird angle. Harry pokes that too, until Nick grabs his hand and doesn't let go. 

"You coming out with us tonight?"

"Sure." Harry can only hope that it's not a repeat of Ibiza.

~*~ 

In the end, Nick doesn't go home with anyone, but Harry can't miss the way he disappears into the toilet with his arm around some kid. He's tall and lanky and has been dancing close to Nick all night.

Nick emerges looking loose and relaxed and immediately goes outside to have a smoke. Harry doesn't follow. 

When they get home, Harry squeezes into shower behind Nick, too tired and lazy to go upstairs to his own. They're not doing much more than rinsing off the sweat and smoke from the club anyway. It's easy to fit himself up against Nick's front as the water pours over them, and it's equally easy to tilt his head up and steal a kiss from Nick while he reaches for the soap behind Harry's back. 

The shower takes longer than it probably should, but when they finally tumble out and into bed with still-damp hair, Harry is sleepy and pliant, and cuddles up to Nick. His eyes are closed and he's almost asleep by the time the Simpsons credits start playing.

~*~ 

On Tuesday Harry doesn't go into the studio with Nick. They've been working side by side all afternoon, Harry in Skype meetings, and reviewing recordings and making production notes for material from the last week. The holiday had been nice, but now Harry's got hours of tapes to listen to.

Harry makes sandwiches for lunch, but they go out for a walk to pick up dinner before Nick has to leave for the radio. Nick says goodbye to him outside Broadcasting House with a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek, and Harry gets a taxi home. 

Even though Nick's just at the studio, and Harry knows he'll be back later, the house feels empty. He has to fight the urge to get back in a car and go back to join Nick, but he really does have work to do. He's got a first mix of his own album to listen to, and he has people he needs to call back in California. 

Jeff picks up on the second ring. 

"Hey, Hersh!" The old nickname settles over Harry like a warm blanket. "You listen to your album yet?" 

Jeff can't see him but he shakes his head anyway. "Been listening to the sessions from the last few weeks. I'll send over my notes once I get through Jackson's. I'm almost done." 

"What did you think of _One More Night_?" 

It's one of Harry's own songs, and it had been one of the first ones he'd listened to. He'd written it ages ago, during his last tour with the lads, when he was run down and lonely. That was the first tour he hadn't been able to come home to Nick. 

"I'm not sure. He seemed a bit shaky on it." Harry doesn't have the words to tell Jeff that hearing that song in someone else's voice had hurt more than he'd expected. He'd listened this afternoon in the sleepy space after lunch, and couldn't resist curling into Nick's side where they'd both been sitting on the sofa, his headphones still on. 

Nick hadn't asked for an explanation, and Harry hadn't offered, just let Nick look his arm around Harry's shoulders. He'd offered a tissue once Harry had gone through all the bits and pieces of the rough tracking, and Harry hadn't been able to resist a soft kiss to Nick's shoulder before sitting up. 

"We've can always pull if it you're not sure. I know what it meant for you to give him that one in the first place." 

"Yeah," Harry says, voice barely more than a breath. "Yeah. I think I want that one. I can probably get someone to give me some time this week. Would we have time to master it, if I got it down this week?"

There's a long pause, and Harry knows Jeff's looking at the calendar and deadlines for the album. "If you can get it done by Friday, I think we'll be alright." 

"I'll call Liam, see if he'll give me some time. Can you send over the instrumentals? We might be able to salvage that from Jackson at least." 

"Of course. Let me know what else you need. We can re-record some of them over here if you need us to." 

"Let me see who I can find here first, if I need to. I'll let you know." 

It takes half an hour to finish the business they need to catch up on, and then another twenty minutes to catch up on personal things. 

"I'll have to meet him when I come over," Harry says when Jeff tells him about the new guy he's been seeing. 

There's a note of sadness in Jeff's tone when he answers. "We'll see. World famous ex-boyfriend might be a bit intimidating at this stage." 

It's not that Harry's forgotten about that part, he's not had so many boyfriends that he's forgotten anyone, but they're so much more than that. Jeff's one of his best friends and has been for nearly a decade. It hurts to have Jeff prioritize the few years they were having sex as well over everything they've done since. 

"You're one of my best friends," he says, because he has to say something, and the rest is too complicated to send down a phone line. "If he can't handle that he shouldn't be around." 

Harry's wouldn't exactly classify the silence that falls as awkward, but it's definitely not the comfortable pause he's used to with Jeff. Harry breaks it with a question about Shelli and Irving, and then says goodbye after five minutes. 

Jeff hasn't asked about Nick at all; Harry hasn't told him exactly why he's come back to London, but Jeff probably knows anyway. They've been friends too long for him not to. 

Nick's still got another hour on air, so Harry turns on the radio and texts Liam to see if he can come in tomorrow. Liam says he'll check the schedule, and Harry tells him that he doesn't mind late nights if that's all the time he can get. 

And then Harry is left alone with the radio. He should be listening to more of Jackson's album, but instead he texts Nick. 

_Should I come get you after you're done?_

Nick's reply comes immediately. _Going for drinks with Gellz. Come if you want._

Harry doesn't want, not really. He's tired, and drained, and wishes Nick could read all of that through his texts. _Going to have an early one. See you when you get home._

He debates for about five minutes whether or not he should sleep in Nick's bed when Nick isn't there to fall asleep with him. He leans in the doorway until his shoulder goes a bit numb, looking at Nick's neatly made bed. He's slept here nearly every night, but usually Nick is there with him. 

In the end he decides that when Nick comes home he doesn't want to be anywhere else.

~*~ 

Nick comes in sometime after Harry's fallen asleep, and he doesn't check the time when he wakes up to Nick sliding into bed. Harry scoots closer, until Nick is spooning him, grabs his hand, and doesn't let go.

~*~ 

On Thursday, Nick doesn't come home at all.

Harry had spent most of the day in the studio, Louis and Liam having rearranged things to give him as much time as possible. They'd ordered lunch in, and ate whilst listening back to Harry's vocals. After a full debate, Harry had decided that he needed new instrumentals, something simpler than what they'd recorded for Jackson, so they called in Niall to do a demo, and he stayed as long as he could, until he had to run for a meeting. 

Harry had picked up dinner on the way home from Nick's favorite Greek restaurant, which is a bit too far to walk from Harry's house, a fact which Nick's been complaining about non-stop. When he'd got home, though, Nick was already on his way out, taxi waiting at the curb. Harry had ended up eating alone, Nick's portion stuffed into the fridge for him to find later. 

There's always business things to take care of, so Harry had. He'd listened to Nick's show, and then crawled into Nick's bed and waited. He'd waited several hours, until he fell asleep halfway through a book Gemma had told him he'd absolutely needed to read. 

When he wakes up, the light's still on, and he's still alone. 

Nick comes back mid-morning and goes straight for the kettle to make himself a coffee. Harry doesn't ask where Nick's spent the night, and Nick doesn't offer any information other than that they'd gone out after the show. 

Friday night, Harry sleeps in his own bed.

~*~ 

Harry's flight is scheduled for a Monday afternoon, so he invites everyone over for a roast on Sunday evening.

His bags are packed and sitting just inside the door of his bedroom waiting for the car in the morning, and he's in the kitchen, bumping into Nick as they cook. 

Harry's in the middle of slicing potatoes when Nick slides up behind him and wraps an arm around his waist. Harry leans back into it, making sure to lay the knife securely on the counter first. He doesn't fancy a trip to A&E tonight. Or ever, really, but especially not tonight. 

"I'm going to miss you," Nick says directly into Harry's ear. "Got used to having you around." 

He's going to miss Nick, too. Already does, really. Nick's been home about half the nights the last few weeks. Harry is already tired of waking up alone. It's not why he'd moved back. 

"I'll only be gone for two weeks." Harry hipchecks Nick out of the way, as it's getting late and he really needs to finish these potatoes if they're going to cook in time. Otherwise they'll be having their roast at half nine. "Now go do something useful." 

Nick noses at Harry's jaw for a minute before going to tend to the beef. Harry shivers as the touch fades from his skin. 

It's harder than he thought, just being here. After Ibiza, after he and Nick had talked, Harry hadn't expected that things would change so much whilst staying exactly the same. Nick's been out after his show and on the weekends. Sometimes Harry goes too, but he's been putting in a lot of hours at the studio to finish and master his song. 

The nights Nick goes out with his other friends are the nights he doesn't always come back. 

He always comes home with Harry. 

Even though they're right next to each other, they've never quite been this far apart before. It's killing Harry to wait this last little stretch, to have Nick acting like nothing's changed, when they both know it has. 

Half the problem is that he doesn't know how much more time Nick needs. He's trying to be as understanding as possible because a six-year relationship breaking up is difficult. At the same time, Harry just wants to shake Nick until he _sees_. 

Aimee and Ian show first, and Aimee immediately parks herself on the only bare stretch of counter and pours herself a glass of wine. She kicks Nick every time he passes, and tugs on Harry's hair. 

"Well isn't this cozy," Aimee says when Nick bends over to check the temperature on the roast in the oven. She kicks him in the arse for good measure. 

"Heyyyy," Harry says, pulling her off the counter. The oven's hot and Nick's clumsy and Aimee knows _both_ these things. He shoves the bottle of wine and one more into her arms. "Go take this into the living room." 

Nick's frowning when Harry turns back to him, so he does the only thing he can think of and kisses it away; a long, luxurious kiss in the middle of the kitchen now that the oven is closed up properly again, and neither of them will get burned if they trip on each other's toes. 

"No one wants to see that," Gemma says. 

Harry looks up to find her flanked by Pixie and Gillian and Mairead holding Arlo's hand. Nick immediately goes to hug Arlo and Gemma comes over to toy with Harry's hair while he pretends to bat her away. 

"Just got used to having you around," she says, knocking her shoulders into his. A near perfect mirror of Nick's from early. Harry's heart aches whilst he spins away more or less gracefully (he doesn't fall over at any rate) and checks the potatoes. They're almost ready to mash, so he collects the butter and milk and herbs and spices he needs, then pours a glass of wine for Gemma and sends her into the living room with everyone else.

~*~ 

"No, absolutely not," Daisy says, when Harry's about to sit down. Nick's at the head of the table, and Harry had automatically gone to pull out a chair next to him. "I'm not watching that all evening."

Harry sits down on Nick's lap, just for show, and smiles when Nick's arms come up around his waist, holding him there. 

"She's right," Henry agrees. "No one will be able to eat anything and the roast will be wasted." 

Nick grins at Harry and they make a show of kissing, big smacking noises included, until a napkin ring hits Harry in the head. He ends up sitting about two thirds down the table between Ian and Gillian, across from Henry and Gemma. 

He can't help but steal glances over at Nick about every two seconds, and every time Gemma catches him at it she kicks him in the foot. By the time dinner is finished he's very happy that he doesn't have to walk much tomorrow. 

Through dinner, Harry's eyes keep catching on the soft blue of the _enjoy_ sign he'd finally convinced Nick to hang in the dining room. He'd protested that this wasn't his house and Harry would just have to patch the wall when he moved out, but Harry had insisted. He doesn't want Nick to leave. 

Daisy brings out her apple crisp for dessert, and Harry's feeling calm and content. Mostly just sitting back whilst everyone chats around him. It's a nice feeling, especially considering the last few weeks, where he's been running himself almost as ragged as he had right before moving. He catches Nick's eye across the table and smiles at him, the little thrill when Nick smiles back still warm and new, even after a decade. 

He tunes into what Nick's saying when he notices that most of the table are also paying attention to him now. 

"I nearly took the wrong coat when I was leaving," Nick is saying, big sweeping gestures. "My wallet was in my pocket, but my keys were in the jacket but when I did that pat down to make sure I didn't look like crap and to make sure I had my keys, but there was a big lump in the pocket."

Nick is smiling widely and moving his hands around, and Harry can't help but stare at his fingers. He loves Nick's hands, and he wishes he could just reach out and grab them. He _knows_ what Nick's hands feel like in his hair, around his wrist, on his hips. 

He should probably stop thinking about this at the dinner table. 

Gemma kicks him, and he gives her a guilty smile. 

"An avocado! Who brings an avocado to a club?" 

Of course it's from one of Nick's nights out. Harry would have remembered if he'd been there, but at the same time he's a tiny bit bitter about the way things have gone the last few weeks. A lot bitter. 

Something must show on his face because Gillian throws an arm around his shoulder. "You alright, kid?" 

"I'm not a kid," Harry says, mostly automatically. Because he's not alright, not really. He just doesn't want to say it and dampen the mood of the party. He doesn't push her arm off, though. 

Nick throws Harry out of the kitchen and takes care of the washing up with Gemma, so Harry ends up on the sofa next to Gillian. When nearly everyone else is occupied in small conversations, bent close together Harry takes the opportunity. 

"Was it always like this? Living with him?" 

There's a soft, sad look on her face. "How do you mean?" 

Harry shrugs. "He doesn't come home half the time. He's not been this into the clubs since I've known him. Even before Breakfast, we'd just end up back at his most of the time." There's a tiny bit of dirt under one of his thumbnails and he can't quite get at it with his bitten off nails so he brings it to his mouth to get it out with his teeth. 

"Oh, love." She kisses the top of his head. "It's different for you than it was for us." Harry looks up at her. He thinks he knows what she's going to say next, the reason why things are so awful right now, but some part of him needs to hear it. Even when he knows it down to his bones. "We weren't in love with him." 

That speck of dirt is still under his nail, but Harry's pretty sure his thumb is about to start bleeding if he chews through it anymore. He doesn't say anything else. 

"He'll come around," Mairead says. "We'll make sure of it." 

Pixie and Henry, who are also listening nod too. Harry really loves their friends. 

Everyone leaves around midnight, and Aimee gives him a long hug. "For what it's worth, he's in love with you, too." 

Harry squeezes her tighter. He knows that, he's always known it. It's just that the world's been against them for so long. Now it's just Nick himself. 

Nick trails him up the stairs and into his bedroom, as usual. Harry's a bit lightheaded and fuzzy from the wine and the good food, but he's leaving for two weeks and he needs Nick, so he doesn't even let him go clean his teeth. Instead, he backs them both onto Nick's bed and crawls on top, desperate to feel Nick. 

He goes as slow as possible, drawing it out until he's desperate and Nick is beautifully laid out on the sheets, Harry's fingers stretching him open. By the time he lays Nick out and slides in, they're both clinging to each other; kissing mostly by just brushing their lips against each other and breathing into the same space. Harry hopes he'll have scattered fingerprints on his arms tomorrow. 

Nick fetches the flannel to clean them up, but when he slides back into bed he stays on his own side, his fingers on Harry's outstretched arm the only point connecting them. Harry knows that Nick just doesn't like getting too warm when he sleeps, but it hurts nonetheless. He's leaving in the morning. 

Despite being incredibly sleepy from the food and the wine and the sex, it takes Harry ages to fall asleep.

~*~ 

Jeff picks him up at LAX in his own car, not a car service. It's nice, having that personal touch. It's nice to see Jeff as well, since before he'd moved they'd seen each other quite a bit. There's a few paps hanging around, so Harry waves at them, but it's nowhere near the mob scenes he'd been used to a few years ago. He likes that things have settled down enough for him to not need constant security.

"Everyone wants to see you," Jeff says once they're on Century boulevard and out of the actual airport. "Cam's come up for the night too."

"Is he actually going to finish this year, do you think?"

Jeff laughs at that. "Who knows. All he ever wants to do is play golf." 

The rush hour traffic is terrible, which means it takes nearly an hour and a half to get from the airport to the Azoff's house. It feels like coming home, even though he's never actually lived here. With nearly the entire family waiting for them, it feels more like home than his own empty house will, most likely. He likes having his own home that he gets to spend more than two weeks a year in, but he doesn't like doing it alone.

London's been great for that, this time. Mostly.

Dinner's just being set out on the sideboard when Harry trips through the door. He's exhausted from the long flight and the late hour back home, but everyone is warm and welcoming and Harry can put all his worries aside long enough to have a pleasant meal.

"Do you want to just stay here?" Shelli asks when Harry is just about asleep on the sofa after dessert. He's so exhausted and sleepy and full from dinner.

He has to drag his eyes open and blink a few times until she comes into focus. "I should go back to mine. But thank you."

Jeff drives him home, and they leave Harry's bags in the garage, just inside the door. He's got plenty of clothes here anyway. He'd probably be just fine leaving his bag unpacked for the next few weeks.

His housekeeper's been by to change his sheets, and they're fresh and crisp and inviting when he falls into them.

~*~ 

Harry wishes he didn't need an alarm on Tuesday morning, even though he's gotten a decent amount of sleep during sleeping hours. Unfortunately, there's a lot to do to get ready for Friday.

Rachel's there when he finally comes downstairs after a shower, and she's got a smoothie waiting for him. He hugs her tightly. "I've missed you," he says. She's worked for him for a long time now. "Can I convince you to come to London with me?"

"For how long?"

She's typing continuously on her laptop at the kitchen table while Harry sips his smoothie and goes through the emails she's flagged for him on his phone. He'd said it was a temporary move in the beginning, but he'd never wanted it to be.

"Haven't figured it out yet. A few months maybe." There's too many moving pieces for him to be able to give anyone, much less himself, a clear answer. "You could probably stay with my sister for a while. She likes you."

Rachel pretends to contemplate it, but she's smiling. "I'm due for a vacation. My boss has been a nightmare lately."

"Heyyyyy." He knows she doesn't really mean it, even though the last few months she's been busy, managing a lot of the smaller details for the concert. "What's my schedule for today?" 

Harry texts Nick to say that he's back in LA, that he misses home already and that he'll be back soon. He tries not to let Nick's lack of immediate response distract him, because he's got to focus now. He's back in LA for business.

Though the bright sun is almost making him reconsider all of his choices.

~*~ 

For all that he's been working, Harry hasn't actually been inside of an office since he left for London. He doesn't have one of his own, never has, preferring to work from his sofa or patio; it's a habit cultivated after years on the road where he'd learned to focus on whatever project required attention without needing any set space.

Jeff's office is sleek and bright. There's some art on the walls, but mostly there's a lot of windows which let in the sunlight. As far as offices go, it's a fairly nice one. Harry sits down on the sofa instead of by the desk. It's comfortable, so he swings his legs up too, and settles in. 

"Are you doing alright without me in town?" Harry's been doing as much as he can, but Jeff's always carried the lion's share of the day to day business, and with Harry gone he's been taking on more. All the meetings that Harry can't personally be at. 

"It's fine," Jeff says. 

It probably isn't, or at least not as fine as he's trying to let Harry believe. He hates when Jeff does that, tries to protect him. 

"Really, though." 

Jeff looks up from his typing. "The work's fine, Hersh. I just miss having you around." 

Harry hasn't been out of Los Angeles this long since he bought his house. At least, not when he wasn't touring or preparing for tour. He misses the scorching sun and the palm trees and the family he's built out here. He's not exactly giving it up, since travel isn't really a problem for him, but it's different when he's visiting and not living here. 

"I miss you too." He offers Jeff a smile, and gets one in return. Jeff's been a constant in Harry's life for so long, but in a completely different way to Nick; even when they _were_ dating. 

"Right then," Jeff says, cutting off that conversation. They both know what they'd be saying, and Harry doesn't want to go into it this morning. "We're meeting with the ducklings in an hour." Just like that, they've got work to do.

There's a weird atmosphere in the office, though, and when Jeff comes to sit on the sofa with Harry to go over details on the same screen, he doesn't sit as close as he used to.

~*~ 

More than a decade on, Harry still hasn't found the cure for the butterflies in his stomach that he gets before every performance. He's learned how to use the energy in his favor, but that doesn't mean he doesn't get nervous at all. He's starting to suspect that it'll never change.

He watches most of the show from the wings. Jackson first, then Elizabeth and Karen, Eric, Rowan, all of the singers he's been working with. 

Finally, it's Harry's turn. He knows his songs, knows which order he's playing them in, and knows Jeff is going to kill him for his surprise guest. It'll be great, though. Harry's talked to his band and everything. 

Niall sneaks an arm around Harry's waist while they wait for his intro to finish. It's not quite the huddle they used to do before shows, but it's familiar enough to be comforting. 

"You don't have to do this, Nialler." 

"Of course I'm going to. Don't get nearly enough time on stage these days." 

Harry grins and bumps his shoulder into Niall's. "That's because you do radio these days. Life spent in a small room talking to sticks." 

"They're very friendly sticks," Niall says. He gives Harry a bit of a shove, now that the audience cheers are growing louder. "Go on, then." 

Harry stumbles onto the stage, nearly tripping over his own feet, but makes it to the mic in time to start his own song. 

He's been on for nearly an hour when he smiles sheepishly at Jeff and starts talking, introducing the next song. He'd only decided to ask about doing this in the ten minutes overlap between Niall arriving from the airport and Harry having to leave for the venue. 

Now, it's time for him to perform _One More Night_ for the first time. "So this next song is one that I wrote many, many years ago, and it holds a special place in my heart. I've been thinking about it quite a lot lately, and have finally decided to record it. This is the first time I've sang it in public and I've brought an old friend to help me along." 

It takes a minute for people to recognize Niall, but when they do the screams are deafening. It feels like coming home. 

Niall starts playing and Harry closes his eyes. He can so easily imagine that it's five years ago, traveling the world with the lads and missing Nick so badly it was a constant ache. That knowledge that he couldn't go back in the same way had eaten away at him. 

He's barely holding back tears by the time he finishes the song, and doesn't particularly care who notices. Niall takes off his guitar and hugs Harry close, whispering in his ear. 

"You alright?" 

This can't go on much longer, he's still got one more song on his setlist, and then an encore, so he wipes his eyes in Niall's hair and ignores his muttered, "gross." 

"I'll be fine." He then gives Niall an exaggerated smack on the lips and sends him backstage so he can finish his set.

~*~ 

Harry meets Jeff's boyfriend about half an hour after he arrives at the party. The party is at a hotel downtown, and Harry's got a room upstairs so he can shower and change and not be a mess for his own party. There's a red carpet, which takes ages, and then he keeps getting pulled aside by friends and business acquaintances, all asking about his album or albums from the others that had performed. Harry tells them all to contact him next week; Rachel can handle it.

By the time he finds Jeff tucked into a corner with a few of their other friends, he's already finished one drink. Jeff's got his arm tucked around the boyfriend's side, and they look comfortable enough together, but he breaks away to come hug Harry as soon as he gets there. 

"You were amazing, but if you ever pull a stunt like that again I'm firing you." 

Harry smiles and relaxes into the hug. "You can't fire me, I'm a major shareholder." 

"I'll buy you out, then." 

A waiter comes by with glasses of champagne, which isn't Harry's favorite thing, but he needs something. 

"Are you going to introduce me, please?" 

Jeff looks puzzled for a minute, but his boyfriend steps up behind him and holds out his hand. "I'm Adam. Nice to finally meet you." 

"And you as well." Harry hasn't heard anything about Adam, only that he's been around since Harry left, but it's not polite to let on. "Did you enjoy the show? Was it alright?" 

This gets Jeff to laugh again. "Stop it, Harry. You know it was perfect." 

Jeff didn't call him Hershel. He nearly always does. Harry wonders if it's related to Adam being here for the first time, but he can't dwell on that. This party is a celebration, but like everything else it's also work, and there are people he needs to see. 

He finds Niall talking to James Corden, who Harry sees all the time since he moved out here. 

"When are you coming on my show again, Harry?" 

He's been asking that for years. Harry's gone a few times, too. It's always a laugh, and it's great to have someone from home out here, too. A link between before and now, even if it's never been hard for him to just go back when he misses home. 

"Don't know. I'm back in London for the next few months, but after, maybe." 

He moves on after that, saying hello to pretty much everyone he knows. Parties like this aren't exactly parties, but they come with the territory. He'd much rather just have a bunch of friends over to his. 

When he makes it back to Jeff's side, Adam's gone. Left for home, apparently. It's just Jeff, and a small circle of their friends. 

"Making me do the heavy lifting tonight," Harry says. He's got a fresh drink, something fruity and it's starting to go to his head, since he hasn't had time to really eat since before the show. 

Jeff slings an arm around Harry's shoulder. "They're all here for your smiling face." He pokes Harry's cheek to illustrate his point. 

Harry dimples at him and leans closer. The adrenaline from the show is starting to wear off. Jeff can see it, too, the way he's sinking just a little bit. "You want to get out of here?" 

"Yeah." 

Harry thinks about his room upstairs, but he'd much rather just go home. Someone can come check him out of the hotel in the morning anyway. Or Niall can use it if he wants. He's got a key, and had stashed his guitar there. He should probably text Niall that. 

Since they're both a bit tipsy, they have the hotel call a car service, and Harry ends up in the back seat of a sleek town car, leaning against Jeff's side. He's nearly asleep, which is unusual; generally speaking, he doesn't go to bed this early, but he hadn't anticipated how much more energy it would take to _run_ a show as well as perform in it. 

He nuzzles into Jeff's neck as they drive, listening to the slight click of the keyboard on Jeff's phone. He never disables the keyboard sounds. When they're almost at Harry's house, which is slightly closer to downtown, Jeff gently shakes him awake. 

"We're almost home," he says, with a soft kiss to Harry's head. 

Everyone does that to him, and he loves it. Loves the way all of his friends and all of his family touch him so much. He revels in those fleeting bits of affection. There's something off tonight, though. It's in the way Jeff scrapes his blunt fingers across the back of Harry's neck, and Harry shivers, sleepiness washing away quickly. 

Jeff doesn't remove his hand, and Harry is fully awake again by the time they get to his gate. 

He shouldn't be doing this, and he knows that. There's Adam, who he's just met, and there's Nick. And it's it's not about Nick, except for how it is. Because right now Nick is back in London without Harry. He's going out with their friends and pulling and getting off with men who aren't Harry. 

A more-than-tiny bit of bitterness stirs in Harry's gut, just enough to burn. He loves Nick, but he's so, so tired of waiting, and Jeff's right here, with his soft laugh and goofy smile and warm hands on Harry's neck. 

"Come in with me?" Harry asks. 

Jeff nods without any hesitation, and they slip out of the car, magnetically drawn to each other once they're inside the gate. The night air is warm and dry. Harry pulls Jeff to him, and he comes easily, moving with Harry until they're inside the house itself and then into Harry's bedroom.

It's so familiar, even though it's been years. Jeff goes straight for the soft spots on his neck, biting hard enough that Harry knows he's going to be marked up in the morning. It feels good, aside from all the dark thoughts lurking in the corners of Harry's mind. 

Jeff is pulling the shirt out of Harry's waistband when he remembers. "What about —" 

He's just met Jeff's new boyfriend. Or at least the guy he's been seeing, but here he is in Harry's bed anyway. 

"Don't worry about it," Jeff says. 

Harry trusts him to make that call, even though he probably shouldn't. 

He goes for Jeff's belt first, unbuckling it along with the button on the trousers he's been wearing all night, but doesn't unzip them yet. Instead, he skims his fingers around, letting them dip below the newly-loosened waistband, feeling the way Jeff shivers against him. He's always liked that, always liked getting off half dressed, when the desperation to touch outweighs everything else. 

They fall onto Harry's bed, and Harry crawls on top of him, straddling Jeff's hips and sliding so that their dicks line up through the fabric. He threads his fingers into Jeff's hair, positioning him for a kiss. 

"God, Harry," Jeff says, lips scraping against Harry's as he does. 

It's wrong. It's all wrong. Jeff's neutral California accent isn't what he wants to hear. He doesn't want Jeff's short business haircut under his fingers. That burning pit of bitterness in his gut explodes and he rolls off Jeff, falling onto his back on the mattress next to him. 

"We can't do this." 

They hadn't bothered to turn on a light when they got back to Harry's, but there's enough coming in from the street lamps that he can see Jeff's face. He reaches out for Harry, but Harry shakes his head and Jeff's hand falls to the mattress between them. 

Harry doesn't have the words to explain what he means in a way that won't crush Jeff completely, so he just rolls out of bed and into his ensuite to splash some water on his face and straighten up his clothing. 

Jeff's standing and buckling his belt by the time Harry comes back out. 

"I'm sorry." There's so many things Harry's apologizing for, and he doesn't have words for any of them. Jeff just nods, and they both move out of the bedroom and down to the kitchen. "Do you want me to drive you home?"

"I've ordered a car." 

Harry hands him a water bottle before cracking one open for himself and downing half of it in one go. Neither of them talk, and he's never been this uncomfortable with Jeff before. It's stupid to feel like things are falling apart over one snog, but he can't help it. 

Jeff's phone buzzes with a message that his car is outside. 

"We're alright?" Harry asks. There's a note of pleading in his voice. He can't have this go wrong, too. There's enough going wrong back home. 

Jeff comes around the island and wraps Harry in a hug, and Harry sighs into it. "Of course we are, Hersh." 

Harry's not so sure that's true, but it's late and he's starting to get a headache. Even though the car's waiting, it's a long minute before Jeff pulls away. 

"Maybe it's better that you're in London for a while." There's a sad smile on his lips, and Harry knows what it is, but he also knows that they're never going to see eye to eye about it. Especially not now. 

He rubs the back of his neck, scraping his fingernails over where Jeff had touched him earlier, planting his own touch over the recent memories. "About that..." 

"What?" 

Harry kisses his cheek and opens the door for him. "I'll call you tomorrow." 

With one last hug, Jeff is out the door. Harry waits until he's definitely out of earshot before he says one last, "I'm sorry."

~*~ 

The golf course is hazy and damp when they get outside, but the visibility is good enough, and anyway they're playing on the north course today, so it's a more forgiving terrain. It's still brilliant playing here right on the edge of the ocean.

Niall wins by a few strokes so it's Harry's shout for lunch, which they eat on the terrace above the pool at the lodge, sipping local beers and watching families play and splash around in the water. Harry's gotten a bit lost watching a little girl who can't be more than about three nearly jump into her father's waiting arms before backing up from the edge every single time. He's pretty sure he knows what the dad feels like. 

He's startled out of if when Niall pokes him in the arm hard. "Think we've been recognized, mate." He smiles and waves down at two girls who are clinging to each other across the space between their lounge chairs and waving up at them manically. They both have phones on their stomachs so Harry's pretty sure they've already taken pictures. 

Niall smiles and waves at them, and their frantic movements slow down for a fraction of a second. "Nah, just you. No one cares about an aging radio DJ these days. Even if he used to be a pop star." 

Harry puts on a smile and waves at them, and then looks around for a waiter so he can sign something for them. He's not getting up from his lunch. They've not even had their starters yet. 

"Grimmy used to say that." A few sheets of the lodge's stationary is placed in front of Harry, and he writes a quick note, twice over, — _don't forget your sunsblock. love from_ — and signs them, and passes them over to Niall to do the same. He seals it up in an envelope and points out the two girls down on the deck. It's nothing like the hysteria that used to follow them around, but Harry's never quite got over the thrill of being recognized. He's just glad it comes without the mobs these days. 

Niall drains his glass and it's quickly replaced by another. "What's going on with him? You looked well cozy at his party a few weeks back." 

Harry shrugs. "Don't know. We haven't talked much about it." It's only a little bit of a lie.

"All this time?" 

"It's never been, like, a constant thing." It has been in some ways. For Harry, at least. Just not between the two of them. And they've never given themselves any sort of label beyond _friends_. Harry was touring too much, and couldn't give Nick what he wanted, and then Nick was settling down when Harry had moved out to Los Angeles. Then there'd been Jeff and James, and they'd never quite matched up. 

He'd thought that maybe this was the time. 

"What is it now?" Niall's voice is gentle, and Harry kicks him under the table. It doesn't exactly feel good, but he's not suffering from a completely broken heart. It's just cracked, maybe. 

Harry shrugs instead of answering. He loves Nick, and he's pretty sure Nick loves him too, even if he hasn't said it in years. "He's a bit of an idiot." 

Niall's grin takes up half his face. "Massive one, if he let you slip away." 

"Heyyyy." Harry's back to smiling. He still won't let anyone insult Nick, even if it's just Niall

"Just — let me know if I need to rough him up a bit, yeah?" 

They might not live in each other's pockets anymore but the lads are still family. 

They end up talking about the reunion album and tour more than anything else. It's officially _not_ in the works, but they all know they're going to do it. The only question is whether they can wait another four years for it to be the ten year anniversary of their official hiatus. 

When their plates are cleared Harry dumps his napkin on the table. "How's your knee holding up?" 

Niall scrunches his brow. "It's alright. It's been holding up to the golf." 

"Good," Harry doesn't bother to hide his grin. "Because there's a beach I heard about that's a bit of a hike from here." 

"Haz, there's a car park by the beach at the bottom of the hill." 

A few heads turn as they walk through the lobby and out to their suites overlooking the course and the Pacific. "Yes, but it's not a nude beach."

~*~ 

They golf again the next morning, and Harry calls Nick while they're both getting cleaned up before lunch.

"How's California?" Nick sounds more tired than he should for it being early evening. Comparatively anyway. It's only seven. 

"Lots of golf. Took Niall to a nudist beach yesterday to cheer him up when I was recognized and he wasn't." Well, that's just an excuse. Harry had wanted to go just to go.

Nick laughs, and Harry waits for the giant intake of breath he knows is coming, watching the sun reflect off the ocean past the cliffs and the pines and the golf course. It's a bit blinding today. 

"He should have kept the blond hair then." 

Once upon a time Harry would have agreed. But he's used to this Niall now. It's another reminder that they've all grown up. "Maybe I should attack him with a bleach bottle." 

"I'd love to see that headline." 

The thing is, they're not headline news anymore. At least, not as a group. Harry is sometimes, but he's no longer a teen sensation, and he has it on good authority that some of his music's even been played on Radio 2. "Doubt anyone would even notice. We're old news." 

"Hmmm. Former boyband members get into fight while on golfing holiday in California. Especially if they've got pictures of you from hotel security or sommat." 

Harry taps the rail of the balcony. "I'll get Lou to attack his hair next time he's over there. She's much more persuasive than a plastic toy gun filled with bleach. And less damage to his clothing." 

They lapse into silence, and Harry collapses into one of the heavy chairs on the deck. It's quite low down and the balcony rail spoils his view of the ocean, but it's comfortable all the same. He watches the golfers through the rails instead. They've got two more days here and two more rounds, and then they're both heading home. 

"What are we doing, Nick?" 

"Talking on the phone? I'm having my tea and getting ready to go to work." 

It's not what Harry's asking, but it's probably better not to do this when they're thousands of miles apart. They've had plenty of chats at this distance and farther, this just probably shouldn't be one of them. Harry needs to see Nick's face when they do this, maybe even hold his hand. God, he's a sap.

"Nevermind. I've got to go, we're having lunch in a minute. You know what Niall's like when he's hungry." 

"Yeah." Nick doesn't end the call. 

"Nick?" 

There's a long pause, and Niall appears on the larger balcony outside his room tapping his watch to tell Harry to hurry up. He ignores it because it's not exactly crowded for an early lunch in the middle of the week.

"When are you coming back?" Nick sounds bright and chipper, but it's definitely forced. He'd sounded so exhausted just a minute ago. Harry aches to pull him close, so he stands and drapes himself on Niall instead, who is still as tolerant as he's ever been of Harry's constant need for cuddles. 

"This weekend I think, unless anything comes up. Shouldn't, though." Niall squeezes Harry's shoulder and tugs on his hair a bit. "Have to come back next month but only for a few days." 

"I'll miss you." 

"Nick. Don't. Not now." 

There's another long pause and Niall kisses Harry's head. Harry noses further into his neck. 

"I'm coming home soon." 

Nick doesn't say anything, and they hang up after that. 

"Still nothing?" Niall asks. 

Harry bites Niall's shoulder because it's right there and because he's feeling hopeful and frustrated and sad and lonely all at once, and he needs to get some of it out. "Maybe something." 

Niall pulls on his hair but laughs at the same time.

~*~ 

This time, Nick knows Harry's on his way back. Harry sends a message before the plane takes off, and again when he lands.

This time when he walks into the house, it's empty.

It's the middle of the afternoon on a Sunday, so there are many places Nick might conceivably be that aren't sat on the sofa watching telly. It still hurts that Nick isn't here to welcome him home. With a sigh, Harry carries his bag upstairs and unpacks it. 

Hours pass and Nick still doesn't come home. There's nothing in the fridge really, except for some old takeaway containers, but Harry has learned the hard way not to trust other people's leftovers. He could call and get something delivered for himself, but he fancies a walk, so that's what he does. 

There's the pub down the street, but not much else near the house. Harry just keeps walking without paying that much attention to where he's going. It feels good to stretch his legs after being on the plane all day. 

A few people recognize him and snap pictures, and he waves at them but doesn't stop to talk. There's really only one person he wants to talk to, but aside from a simple acknowledgement that he knew Harry's plane had landed, he hasn't heard anything. Nick had disappeared the minute Harry was back in the country.

That's not how this was supposed to go. Maybe he'd wanted to be able to do that thing where he'd run in the door and straight into Nick's arms. 

When his legs get tired, Harry ducks into the nearest takeaway and then gets a taxi home. He chats with his mum and Gemma, and promises he'll visit soon, but has to ignore the way they ask if he'll be bringing anyone back with him. Everyone around them knows what's happening, but Nick still isn't home. 

Close to half-ten he breaks and calls Pixie. 

"Are you back?" She doesn't screech in his ear, but it's close. 

He asks after Buster, who is starting to go blind, even though he's still the same sweet dog he's always been. She congratulates him on his show, which had been a pretty good success, both in terms of sales and in terms of pleasing the crowds. They're already starting to talk about setting it up annually. 

Harry makes it twenty minutes before he asks. "Have you talked to Grimmy? I haven't heard from him all day." 

"I think he's at Collette's? I don't really know where they are, but he's been texting me stupid things she says all night."

Harry closes his eyes and tries not to hate Pixie. He loves her, really. He doesn't love that he's now got definite proof that Nick is deliberately ignoring him. She's just the messenger, he tells himself. 

"I can give you the address if you want to go find him." Her voice is gentle, like she realizes something's off. Harry admitting he hasn't heard from Nick when Nick is definitely using his phone and knows that Harry's home is a fairly big thing. 

"Thanks, love, but it's probably too late to go over uninvited." 

It's not, and they both know it, not for Nick and Collette's normal schedule, but Harry wants to talk to Nick, not get swept into a party with Collette and Michael and whoever else might be there. He wants to talk to Nick. 

Well, maybe he wants to talk to Nick over coffee in the morning. Right now he just wants to fall into Nick's bed and cuddle up with him for the night, just to have someone there with him. It's not that he can't sleep on his own, it's that he doesn't want to. He shouldn't have to when Nick is right there. 

For about half a second Harry contemplates sleeping in Nick's bed anyway, so that when Nick eventually gets home, he'll have to share, but with Nick avoiding him, it's probably not the best move to force himself into Nick's space. His own bed feels wrong, though. He's only slept in it a handful of times since he'd got back. It's not that he hates his own bed, exactly. It's quite comfortable, he just gets lonely.

~*~ 

The house is still silent when Harry wakes up, and he very narrowly resists peeking in Nick's room to see if maybe he's still asleep — doubtful, as it's nearing noon, Harry really hates jetlag — and goes down to make his coffee. It's getting too cold now to take it out to the garden, but he's still got a lot of windows in the living room that look out that way, so that's where he sits once he's made his toast and eggs.

Gemma's texted, since she knew he was on his way home as well, so Harry makes plans with her for the afternoon. There's an email from Jeff with the travel itineraries for Lara, one of his pet musicians back in California, and he makes a reminder to confirm his studio time later in the week with Liam and Louis. 

And then he waits. He takes a shower and gets dressed and leaves the house just early enough to be on time to meet Gemma, not that she'll really mind if he's a few minutes late. He doesn't want to keep her waiting too long. 

When she sees him she immediately wraps him into a hug. "You look awful." 

"Love you too," he says, squeezing her tight. 

They must look a sight, clinging to each other on a street corner, but Harry doesn't actually care. He hasn't seen her in two weeks. He'd gone months without his sister when he'd lived in LA, but now they're both living the same city and Harry can feel himself dropping right back into the same patterns of depending on her.

He hopes he'll be living here for a while longer. He just needs a reason. 

"Mum told me about Grimmy." 

Right now, Harry hates the way his family talk. All he wants is a distracting afternoon, where he can pretend that he hasn't heard from Nick because he hasn't had time to check his phone. That's a complete lie, though, because he's been on his phone the whole taxi ride over. 

"It's —" he can't say nothing because Gemma knows him better than that. He just doesn't want to talk about it at the moment. "Can we do something else?" 

"I called Lou," Gem says with a smile. "She says you haven't been by in ages and she wants a crack at your hair. Lux misses you too." 

Lux had been one of the hardest people to leave behind when he'd moved. She's nearly a teenager now; he's missed so much. 

They wander through a few shops, and Harry buys Gem a new handbag over her protests, but lets her buy him a pint in return before they go to see Lou. She tugs him into a hug and pulls at his hair, tangling her fingers into it. These days he keeps it fairly short, and there's a sad expression on her face when she pulls away. 

"This is a tragedy," she tells him, pulling out of his arms and guiding him down into the kitchen chair that is her unofficial shop chair at home. 

"Give us something new, then. Could do with a fresh start." 

She squeezes his shoulder, and across the room Gemma frowns at him, but he shakes his head back. He'll talk about it when he's good and ready. Hopefully, after he can corner Nick. 

In the end she doesn't do much more than play with it and snip off a few ends, but the familiar setting and her fingers on his scalp feel amazing, and he relaxes into it, sliding down the chair an inch at a time until Lux trips over his feet when she gets home and sees him there. She uses the motion to throw herself at him and hits him in the chest, knocking the breath out of him. 

It's the best he's felt in weeks. 

For all that Lou's done nothing but complain about how Lux is starting to want nothing to do with her anymore, Lux is remarkably happy and upbeat all evening. She stays downstairs and gossips with Harry, and they spend too long bent over her phone texting the boy she's got a crush on while Lou and Gemma gossip in the other corner. 

"If he doesn't talk to you again tomorrow, he's an idiot," Harry tells her. "Call me and tell me." He makes her promise, and seals it by shaking pinkies, deadly serious. 

When Lux reluctantly goes to bed, Lou turns up the radio a bit and brings out a few beers for the three of them. "You want to tell me about it, love?" 

Harry shakes his head, but answers her anyway. "I just thought we were past all this. He's avoiding me, won't answer his texts." 

Of course Lou had turned on Radio 1, because Nick's voice filters into the living room. Both Gemma and Lou reach for him, and Harry ends up lying with his head in Lou's lap, whilst she plays with his hair. He feels about sixteen, full up with too many tangled emotions to articulate. Over a decade of songwriting experience and he's still not great at that part when it's something that's just his, not meant for others to hear. 

On the radio, Nick is telling a story about what he'd done last night, how he'd nearly burned down Collette's kitchen in the middle of the night trying to make bacon sandwiches, and he'd burned his hand trying to put out the grease fire. 

Harry's heart hollows out a bit more. Nick had gone to hospital and Harry still hadn't heard a word from anyone. 

He falls asleep with Lou's hand in his hair, Nick's voice on the speakers and Lou and Gemma talking quietly over him, the last dregs of his beer on the floor in front of the sofa. 

Lux wakes him up the next morning, and he makes everyone breakfast before seeing Lux off to school with Tom. 

"You're welcome here any time," Lou tells him as he's gathering his things to go home. "Be just like old times." 

Harry manages a soft smile for her. "I should go home." 

Maybe Nick will actually be there this time.

~*~ 

He doesn't see Nick for another three days.

In that time, Zayn comes down for an afternoon with the rest of the lads that leaves the living room an absolute tip; Gemma spends more time at his than her own place, choosing to work from his sofa since she doesn't need to be in the office; Pixie's been around to tell him that everyone is nagging Nick now. He'd cooked her dinner and looked over her shoulder as she got updates from everyone. 

This is how Harry learns that Nick's been staying over with Daisy, which he'd suspected. Still hurts to know for sure that Nick isn't coming home, and it's not just been that Harry's managed to miss him by being asleep or out. 

Friday morning, Lara lands at Heathrow, and Harry goes out to meet her. She's an overly tall girl with kinky black hair, with a too-thin shirt and too-big jacket, ridiculously tall heels that leave her towering over even him, and a knockout voice. Harry had found her at a karaoke night with Jeff, and they'd immediately pulled her aside. And then had to spend six months convincing her to quit her bartending job and sign with them. 

"This english weather isn't doing you any favors," she says when she sees him. "You look like shit." 

He also loves the way she doesn't pull any punches for him. He hugs her anyway, and the driver takes her luggage as they tuck themselves into the backseat of the car. 

She catches him up on the gossip from her friends, who Harry's spent quite a bit of time with, and goes over the schedule for the next few days. 

"Are you ever coming back?" 

Harry had hoped not, despite what he'd told Jeff when he'd decided to come to London. Now, with the dreary winter weather setting in and Nick avoiding the house and Harry for days at a time, maybe it's time to consider it. 

Missing Nick is easier when they're not living in the same house. 

He shrugs. "Don't know. Maybe." Harry doesn't think he's ever told her about Nick. A car ride back from Heathrow isn't the best place to get into it anyway, so he changes the subject. "So we've got you a hotel near the studio." 

She raises her eyebrows. "Or?" 

Harry grins. This hadn't been the original plan; he had booked her a hotel with every intention of her staying there while he stayed at his own house with Nick. But since Nick hasn't been back in about a week, the house is feeling empty, and having Lara around would probably be good. 

"Or, you can stay with me. I've a few extra rooms." 

"Only a few?"

He's had her over to his a fair amount in LA, where his house is about three times as large as his house here. Here's only got four bedrooms in London, and one of them is an office. So really, he's only got the one free. 

"Well, one's free. I've a friend staying with me right now, but I don't think he'll be around much." 

"A house sounds better than a hotel. And you'd better cook for me." 

His weekend is suddenly looking a lot less lonely. He should call Pix. She'll love Lara. 

She does, more than Harry expects, even. She comes over with a bottle of vodka, followed soon after by Lou and Gemma with Lux (who ends up falling asleep in Harry's bed before it's very late). When he comes down from tucking her in, Pixie's got Lara cornered, and she doesn't look at all unhappy about it, so Harry flops down between Lou and Gemma. 

"You look awful," Gemma says, smoothing back his hair. 

Harry really doesn't need this from everyone in his life. "I'm thinking about going back to California." 

Lou hugs him close. "You just got here." 

"Not right away," he nods towards Lara. "I won't go tomorrow or anything. Just — it's not going the way I wanted it to." 

"Oi!" Pixie calls from across the room. "Stop thinking about him." 

Lara looks like she wants to ask, but doesn't. 

"We're going out," Gemma announces, though Lou stays behind since Lux is asleep upstairs. 

They're both still in Harry's bed when they all crawl back in the early morning hours, so Harry makes sure Lara has water and paracetamol for the morning before going to fall asleep in Nick's room. 

Surprisingly enough, he's there, though he doesn't wake up when Harry curls in next to him. He can pretend that everything's fine for long enough to fall asleep.

~*~ 

Nick is still there in the morning when Harry wakes, and hasn't left by the time Lara comes down, so Harry introduces them and lets them talk while he goes up to his own room to shower and change. Lou and Lux are long gone, though Lux has left him a drawing folded up on his bedside table, which he tucks into the corner of a framed picture of Lux as a baby.

Lara and Nick are chatting over coffee when Harry comes back down. She's not due in the studio until Monday, and Harry's planned out the weekend to let her have some of the full tourist experience. 

"You want to come with us?" Harry asks Nick. He and Lara are both dressed, but Nick's still in joggers and socks, so it would mean putting off their start time. It's not like they have a set schedule anyway. Liam probably won't mind if they're late for lunch. 

Nick shakes his head. "You go ahead, I've got some work to catch up on. It's been a busy week." 

Harry bites his lip to avoid saying anything, but darts in to give Nick a quick kiss goodbye since he's not sure when he'll see Nick again. He doesn't really care that Lara is watching, he leans into Nick, pressing close against the counter and licking his way into Nick's mouth. He wants to whine at the taste of Nick's bitter coffee, at the feel of Nick's hands at the small of his back, pulling him closer. 

_Fuck_ , Harry misses him. Misses the way kissing him didn't used to be so desperate, the way it's always been so easy to fall into each other. Harry pulls back before he completely forgets about his plans for the day, but not before landing one last soft kiss. Nick's eyes flutter open as Harry moves away. 

"I'll see you later," Harry says, very careful not to make it a question. 

Lara very kindly doesn't bring it up until they're at lunch at Shoreditch House with Liam. 

"So," she says, a sly smile on her face. "This _friend_ you've got staying with you." 

Liam picks up on it immediately. "What, Grimmy? He actually come home then?" 

Harry nods. "He was there when we got back last night." 

"Did you have a chance to talk?" Liam's voice is gentle, and Harry knows he's worried, because he always worries. It's what Liam does. 

"Oh, they did more than talk." 

Harry looks at the table top and fiddles with his serviette. "Not really." 

"Lou and Lux were in your bed," Lara points out. "And you didn't sleep on the couch." 

Liam's stare is getting heavier, and Harry fidgets under the weight of it, wondering where their lunch is; it's taking too long. He could really use the distraction right about now. "He was asleep when we got in, and he was still there in the morning, that's it." 

"You need to talk to him, Harry. It's gone on long enough." 

"Yeah, I know." He pushes back from the table, irritated with Lara's lecherous comments and Liam's gentle concern. "I'll be right back." 

He goes out into the garden, and sits down at one of the empty tables by the pool. This is one of those times where he wishes his lungs were good enough to support a decent smoking habit, just so he'd have something to do with his hands, a valid excuse to get up and leave the table in the middle of lunch. He fidgets with his phone instead. He hates losing his temper like that. He wants to show Lara a good time, show her that she didn't make a mistake by agreeing to make a record with him, and everything with Nick is a distraction. 

He's in the middle of a debate with himself over who is going to find him first when Lara solves it and sits down in the chair next to his, swinging her legs up into his lap. 

"You alright?" 

"Sorry," Harry says. 

"He's the reason you moved, isn't he?"

Harry nods. There's no point in lying. He's not sure exactly what Liam's told her; she could be asking about eight years ago or she could be asking about two months ago. The answer's the same either way. 

"Come on. Lunch is here, and I promise I won't ask anymore questions." 

That finally gets Harry to smile again. "This is why I love you best."

Liam watches him a lot, but doesn't bring up Nick again. 

Lara wants to cook him dinner, so they stop at Waitrose on the way home, taking nearly an hour roaming through the shop, Lara pulling various sweets and biscuits off the shelves to examine them and figure out what the American equivalent is. Harry spends most of this time with his arm thrown over her shoulder, remembering his first few trips to America and doing the same thing. 

She seems incredibly pleased about Smarties. Harry doesn't blame her; he's had the American version.

They spend so long that there are paps outside the store when they leave. Harry just waves at them, keeping one hand on the trolley, Lara close behind. He's pretty sure there will be headlines about his new fling in the morning, and while it might be good to get Lara's name out there, this isn't how he'd wanted to do it. He doesn't want her to be yet another girl Harry's supposedly hooked up with. Harry is forever both angry and sad that he's never fully been able to leave that reputation behind. He'd been planning on bribing Niall with a bottle of good scotch so he'll play her first single. 

Nick doesn't come home for tea — not that Harry had expected him to — so it's just him and Lara, stuffing their faces with her grandmother's recipes and retiring into the family room where they rehearse her songs. Her voice is amazing and Harry mostly bungles the guitar parts. Maybe he should call Niall for a few more lessons. 

Lara calls it just after half eleven. Or rather, she yawns five times in a row and can barely get any words out in between so Harry sends her off to bed with a kiss on her cheek and a promise that they'll do some proper practise in the morning. 

Without anybody else in the house, Harry doesn't feel right sleeping in Nick's bed again, so he slowly climbs up to his own room. He'd loved how open the top floor was when he'd bought the house, but now the room feels empty, his footsteps almost echoing, though it's probably just his imagination. It's too fucking quiet up here. 

It's still early afternoon back in California, so Harry grabs his phone from his pocket and sends a quick email to Rachel asking her to upgrade Lara's flight home at the end of the week from Business to First, and to book him on the same flight.

There's plenty of time to change his mind, but at least it'll give him a deadline. He's quite good with deadlines. 

The problem is going to be finding Nick. But if all else fails he can probably corner him at Daisy's, though he'd prefer to do it here. 

Harry undresses slowly, hoping that the mere fact that he's booking a flight back to LA will bring Nick home like he's got some sort of insight into Harry's mind. He desperately wants Nick to come tripping home, but the house stays silent, even after Harry drags his suitcase out of the wardrobe and sets it on the bed, open and empty. 

Instead of packing, since it's too early for him to be doing that if he's supposedly not flying for another week, he leaves it where it is and goes to clean his teeth, taking longer than normal to avoid the empty suitcase. 

In the end, he doesn't even move it, just crawls into bed and curls up on the other side of the bed, careful to avoid the empty space altogether. 

Nick still isn't home Sunday morning. Or Afternoon. Or Night. 

It's not until Harry's getting ready to sleep again that he concedes that even as connected as he and Nick sometimes are, mind reading is probably out of the question. He snaps a picture of the empty suitcase and sends it to Nick. _Booked a flight back to LA next week._

Once it's sent, he flips his phone to night mode and switches off his light, though it takes what feels like ages of tossing and turning and bumping his toes against his empty suitcase before he falls asleep.

~*~ 

The house is still empty in the morning, and there's no messages from Nick.

Not until lunchtime, when they're taking a break from recording to eat cheap takeaway fish and chips from the shop down the street. Lara's hair is getting wilder and wilder as she fiddles with it between each take. Harry remembers what it was like learning to sing for a studio recording instead of live, just how perfect everything had to be. Lara's exhausted and just picking at her food, and it's barely been a few hours. 

"You'll be alright," Harry tells her, bumping his arm into hers on the sofa. His phone buzzes, but he ignores it because he needs to focus on Lara and get her ready for the afternoon session. "Do you have any idea how long it took for us to record our first single? Pretty sure Louis broke at least two microphones." 

It's not actually true, but it gets her to laugh, and start actually eating her lunch. "You guys were little shits weren't you?" 

"Yep." They were, Harry can't disagree. Still are, in a group, when they get the chance. 

Harry's phone buzzes again, and now that Lara seems to have calmed down, he picks it up and looks. 

It's a text from Nick. _Dinner tonight?_

Hope blooms in Harry's chest, and he bites his lip to keep the smile off his face. It's not anything really, but maybe …

Instead of answering right away, he texts Pixie and Gemma. _Can you take Lara out tonight? Grimmy wants to have dinner._

Gemma responds instantly with a string of emojis including a tongue, a peach, an aubergine, and the thumbs up before she says, _yes_.

~*~ 

Harry is inexplicably nervous while he waits for Nick to come home. Gemma's already swept Lara away in a flutter of glitter and scarves, so Harry's left alone in his quiet house. It's just Nick, but it's _Nick_ , so he's dressed up a bit more than usual; a pair of jeans that haven't been patched five times, boots that are only minimally scuffed, and at least an attempt to put his hair in order. It won't stay that way, he's sure.

They'd texted a few more times through the afternoon, deciding to get takeaway instead of going anywhere, and Nick had said he'd pick up the food. 

It's not a date, not really. They're not dating, except for how they have been since Harry was eighteen. Tonight just feels like one of those moments that's about to split Harry's life. He can't let himself even think about this going all wrong the way things have been for weeks. He can't keep going like this. 

It's time. 

It's time for _them_. 

He needs to get Nick to see that. 

It's about twenty minutes later than he'd said when Nick walks in the door. Harry stands from where he's been waiting in the living room and smooths down his shirt, then feels weird for doing it. Nick's seen him in much worse clothing, and in no clothing. Recently. 

"Just us tonight?" Nick asks, setting the food on the dining room table. Harry's set it nicely, with actual plates and serviettes and he's lit tea candles in the centerpiece that someone had given him when he bought the house, he doesn't remember who. The fractured glass of the holders are throwing out glowing, shimmering bits of colored light across the the tabletop. 

Harry nods, and picks up the bags to carry into the kitchen so he can put their food on proper plates. "Lara's out with Pixie and Gemma." 

They spend time over dinner talking about the things they've missed in each other's lives the last few weeks. Harry tells Nick about his festival thing, about Lara's album, catches him up on the rest of the lads, since Nick only ever sees Niall with any regularity as they're in the same office. 

It feels like a date; they don't go on actual dates. Nick hates dating. 

"Coffee?" Nick asks whilst Harry's putting the last of the food back into the fridge for later, and loading their plates into the dishwasher. 

Instead of answering, Harry reaches out and grabs at Nick's shoulder, turning him and crowding close so he can kiss Nick. "Stop stalling," Harry whispers against Nick's mouth. "Please." 

He's not sure if he's talking about right now, or more broadly, but either way it's the truth. 

"Harry." Nick sounds broken, but he kisses back, hands sneaking around Harry's back and up under his sweater. Harry shivers as Nick's fingers start tracing his spine. It feels like it's been so fucking long. 

Harry leads them into the living room and down onto his squishiest sofa, neither of them talking while they get comfortable. They're sat on opposite sides, but Harry's facing Nick, and the sofa is small enough that he can tuck his toes (without boots now) under Nick's thighs to get a tiny bit of connection. He wants more. He needs so much more. 

There's no easy way to start this conversation so Harry gets right to the heart of it. "You've been avoiding me." 

Nick sighs, and Harry wiggles his toes until Nick jumps a bit, even though there's no way he can stay on the sofa and move farther away from Harry. This much distance hurts, they've always been so easily affectionate. When Nick does look up, he's frowning. 

"I'm not —" 

"Don't lie, Nick. You've never lied to me." 

Nick slumps a bit, and Harry knows he's hit the heart of it, so he keeps going. 

"Tell me why?" Harry bites his lip. "I miss you. I don't like missing you." 

Nick digs his hand into his hair and re-arranges it. Harry's lost count of the number of times he's done that tonight; his hair's getting messy. "We talked about this. In Ibiza." 

Harry shakes his head. "No, we didn't." Well, they had a bit. "You told me it wasn't time and I listened. I always listen to you." 

They both fall silent, and it stretches out for ages. An ambulance goes by in the distance and Harry hopes that whoever they're picking up will be alright. 

"You scare me." Nick's voice is almost lost under the pounding of Harry's heart. Nick is never quiet. Harry scoots closer, knees to his chest, and picks up Nick's hand lacing their fingers together. 

"Heyyyyy," Harry whines, soft. He waits until Nick is looking at him before speaking again. "I'm not scary." 

"This is, though." He waves his free hand around.

Harry swallows. "I know," he says. He takes the time to get the words right in his head before speaking again. He's been giving this speech in his head for ages, but it's something completely different to actually be saying it to Nick. "But it's time. For us. I've loved you since I was eighteen, Nick. It was time six years ago and we both ran away. I can't do that again." He blinks back a few tears and runs his free hand over his face. He's tired, even though it's so early. He's so tired of them not talking. "I'm miserable without you. I don't want to get on my flight back to LA. I need you to tell me not to." 

Nick brings up his free hand to brush Harry's fringe up off his forehead and tuck it back behind his ears. It stays for about three seconds, but Nick's hand is still right there, and Harry leans into it. "Don't leave." There's no hesitation in the request, and Harry feels like crying again. More. And not because he's sad this time.

Harry looks up and finds that Nick's eyes are wide and clear, and there's a small smile on his lips. 

"Please don't leave," Nick says again, before leaning forward to kiss Harry. A half-sob of relief forces itself out of Harry's throat before he can fully lean forward into the kiss. It's so awkward, with Harry's knees between them and Nick twisted around to the side to line their lips up properly. They can't hold themselves there for long, but the kiss is full of promises, so when they do break away Harry stands up and pulls Nick with him. Pulls Nick against him, so that they're pressed together all the way up. He buries his face in Nick's neck and breathes. 

They're doing this. Finally. Harry's never felt lighter in his life. He laughs, unable to help it at all, and Nick does too. He tries to kiss Nick, but they're both laughing too hard, feeling too much and holding each other too tightly in the middle of the living room. 

"Come on," Nick says. "Let's go to bed. I've missed you, too." 

_I've been right here_ , Harry thinks, but follows him up the stairs. 

They get to Nick's door, but suddenly Harry doesn't want that. Well, he wants Nick, but they've spent the last two months sleeping together in Nick's bed. This isn't more of the same, it's something new. So he tugs on Nick's hand and moves back to the stairs, starting the climb to own bedroom. 

Nick freezes when he steps inside, and Harry follows his eyeline, landing on the empty suitcase that's still on the bed. 

"You really were leaving." 

Harry takes Nick's head in both of his hands so he can make sure Nick is only looking at him when he speaks. "I didn't want to. I never wanted to." He's talking about this week, three weeks ago, six years ago. He kisses Nick softly to soften the blow of the next words. "But you didn't want me to stay." 

Nick's arms come up to circle Harry's back, and they cling to each other for long moments. "I never wanted to tie you down. I always wanted you to stay."

They're both talking about things much bigger than tonight or this past week, but that's not something to get into now. 

"Good." Harry kisses him again. "Because you're stuck with me now." He backs them up until his bum is hitting the side of the bed and bats at the empty suitcase until it falls to the floor so Nick can climb onto the bed in it's place. "If that's alright?"

Harry knows that this can't be the end of their conversation, they'll have to talk more. But right now he's got Nick in his bed and he needs to feel Nick under his fingers. 

Nick straddles him, just above where his knees are still hanging off the bed. It's not the most comfortable position, especially since they're both still fully dressed, but Harry can get his hands up under Nick's shirt to tickle his ribs, even though he's not really ticklish. 

He giggles anyway, and collapses down onto Harry's chest, his hair falling forward into his face again. Harry kisses him anyway, even though his fringe is tickling Harry's eyelids. It's a very good thing Aiden makes him do so much core work, because he doesn't need much leverage to flip them over so that he's settled between Nick's thighs. 

"Oof," Nick says, batting at Harry's chest. "You aren't half heavy these days." 

Harry kisses him. "Shut it," he warns. They're both smiling anyway. He grinds down against Nick and bites at his neck, needing to leave behind something to remind himself that this is real this time. 

And then he pulls off completely and stands up so he can get undressed. 

Nick blinks at him a few times, but doesn't move, so Harry offers his hand and pulls him to his feet. "Come on, hurry up." Harry throws his shirt at Nick's face and smiles watching him bat it away and to the floor. 

Harry sticks his tongue out at him, giving him a full dimpled smile while he's at it, but continues undressing at the same time, and by the time he's kicking his jeans and pants off and into a corner Nick's halfway undressed as well. He goes back to the bed via his bedside table, where he pulls out the last condom from the box they'd bought on the way to Ibiza which had somehow landed in his luggage before they came home. He tosses it on the bed along with a small bottle of lube and waits for Nick. 

Nick folds his clothes and sets them nicely on the chair in the corner. Who folds their clothes before sex? Harry decides he's not going to wait, so he lets his legs fall open and wraps his hand around his cock. Nick will just have to catch up. Hopefully quickly. 

Nick crawls up from the foot of the bed, and settles between Harry's legs, nosing into his thigh for a minute before moving Harry's hand off his cock and sucking him down in one smooth movement. Harry wants to dig his fingers into Nick's hair and hold him in place, but that would be rude without asking first and he can't quite find the right words, or any at all, when Nick swallows around his cock before he starts moving. 

The fact that Harry already _knows_ how good Nick is with his tongue doesn't mean he can hold off at all when Nick is digging his nails into Harry's thighs and dragging his tongue up and down Harry's cock. 

He tugs on Nick's hair to get him to let up a bit, but Nick sucks harder. "Fuck, not yet." 

Nick does pull back for a minute and wipes at his mouth before speaking. "Already?" There's a smug smile dancing across Nick's face, and Harry finds it completely endearing. 

"I want you to fuck me," Harry says. He's never been shy about asking for things in bed or anywhere else, and he's not going to start now. "Come on Nick, come up here." 

He tastes like cock when Harry finally persuades him, though he takes his time, stopping to bite at all four of Harry's nipples even if only the two of them actually do anything, a fact of which Nick is well aware. It drives Harry crazy when Nick does this, too. He's already so close just from the relief that this is finally happening. 

"What if I want you to fuck me?" Nick asks, draping himself fully on Harry's chest. His dick is hard up against Harry's hip, and he thrusts up against it, watching the way Nick's mouth falls out of that stupid smirk of his. 

He does it again, just to watch Nick's eyes flutter shut, watch the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks. He reaches out to trace them gently. "I asked first. First come first served." 

"You haven't come yet," Nick says. 

"You could help me with that." Harry tugs Nick into a kiss, hard and brutal whilst he plants a foot on the bed and thrusts his hips up against Nick, smearing wet across his belly. 

"Fine," Nick is attempting to sound put out, but the effect is totally lost in the way he leans in to kiss Harry again, gently, breathing against his mouth. 

Harry gropes around on the sheets until he finds the lube and condoms he'd brought out and presses them into Nick's hands. "I love you," he murmurs into Nick's hair. 

As Nick falls to the side, Harry spreads his legs further to give Nick space. Nick pushes a lube slick finger down to press against his hole and Harry has to grab at Nick's arm. They've done this so many times before, but it feels different this time. It's a first time all over, the first time they don't have to fly away from each other after. 

Nick presses his finger inside, slowly, like he's taking his time with it. Normally, Harry wouldn't care but right now he wants to feel Nick in him, needs know that this is real. He rolls himself onto his side and throws his leg over Nick's hip. "Faster." 

He pulls Nick in for a kiss, and he comes easily. There's some frantic energy around them, Harry's hips are stuttering a bit trying to press back and get _more_ from Nick. It takes ages for him to add a second finger, though. He has to adjust his angle a bit, but then he finds Harry's prostate, and Harry's toes curl. There's a wicked grin on Nick's face as he sneaks a third finger in and works Harry over with his fingers. 

Harry can't speak anymore, just pants into Nick's neck as Nick keeps going, brushing over that same spot until Harry can't even move. His cock is twitching between them, out of sync with Nick's fingers, and with one more stroke over Harry's prostate he comes, his orgasm catching him completely by surprise. 

Nick too, because he stills his fingers, though he doesn't pull them out. They just stare at each other for a moment, Harry flushing red. 

And then Nick laughs. Laughs so hard he can't breathe, and has to draw in huge raucous breaths. Harry turns his face into the pillows, but he's smiling too. 

The last threads of his orgasm are twirling away when Nick moves his slippery hand up to stroke Harry's cock a few times. Harry shudders, fast growing too sensitive, but he doesn't want Nick to stop touching him. He reaches between them to move Nick's hand from his dick to his chest. In the process he bumps his knuckles against Nick's cock, which is still hard and leaking a bit. Harry makes sure to scrape his hand over the head of Nick's cock, which he brings to his mouth and tastes. He loves the way Nick tastes. 

"That all I get?" Nick brushes the hair out Harry's face. 

Harry flushes again. "I didn't mean to." It's just that everything is a bit overwhelming right now. He's got Nick in _his_ bed, with him, and it's finally their time. Harry's been waiting to know that for nearly a decade. "Sorry." 

Nick kisses him, sliding closer and pushing Harry down onto his back so he can grind their hips together, his still-hard dick against Harry's softening one. Harry shudders a bit at the sensation, but moves his hips up to meet Nick's anyway. 

"You could still fuck me, you know." Harry lets his knee fall open. "Come on." 

Nick fingers Harry's rim, still slick, and Harry shudders. "You sure?"

It's a lot, but he needs this, needs to feel Nick close to him. "Yeah." He presses the condom into Nick's hand. 

Harry nearly kicks him as they shift around so that Nick is kneeling between Harry's spread knees and rolling on the condom and adding a bit more lube. Harry can feel the stretch in his hamstrings as Nick bends him nearly in half and lines up to push in. He pauses before he does, and stretches up to gently kiss Harry, and Harry has never been more thankful for the yoga he does, because he can stretch his legs up a bit further and reach Nick's mouth. 

Nick slides in while they're still kissing, though it quickly turns into bumping lips and tongues instead. Harry's entire body is on edge, but he doesn't want Nick to stop. Needs him not to, really. He goes slowly at first, taking ages for each thrust; Harry loves the long drag of Nick inside of him, the way he feels completely full up as Nick bottoms out inside him. He's physically and emotionally full up, Nick is right there and Harry can reach out and pull him even closer. 

Which he does, by reaching down to get his hands on Nick's arse, pulling him in. "Come on, you can go faster." 

"So eager to be done with me, is that it?" 

The feeling of nick inside him is starting to border on painful, but Harry still wants this. "I'm a bit sleepy," he says, faking a giant yawn right in Nick's face. 

Nick thrusts sharply to get him back for that, but speeds up a bit more after. 

There's not a lot of talking then. Nick busies himself with Harry's neck, and Harry's too overwhelmed to do much but clutch Nick. Nick slows down and with one more long thrust he comes, straining forward and capturing Harry's mouth with his own. 

He pulls out quickly, staying long enough only to catch his breath, and Harry winces, because he really is turning the corner to pain now that Nick's not actually fucking him. 

Nick ties off the condom and tosses it into the bin next to the bed before pulling Harry to his chest. It won't last long, Nick hates sticking to someone else, so Harry's going to take these moments when he can get them. 

"Was that alright? he asks. 

Nick just chuckles in his ear and tightens his hold.

~*~ 

Harry's shower is only slightly bigger than the one downstairs, but they both push into it anyway, leaning sleepily on each other as they quickly rinse away the sweat and come from earlier.

Nick dips his hands to poke gently at Harry's rim, puffy and sensitive from being fucked. Harry doesn't think he's got the energy for another round of fucking, especially not standing up in his tiny shower cubicle, but it feels good anyway so Harry pushes into the touch as Nick licks the spot under his ear and laughs. 

It takes them a few minutes to remember that they're actually meant to be getting clean.

~*~ 

Harry wakes up tucked in behind Nick, arm numb where it's been under Nick's neck all night. It'll probably hurt quite a bit once they start moving, but Harry's too happy to care right now. Nick's skin is sleep-warm under his free hand, and he can't resist touching everywhere he can reach without moving. His nose is tucked into Nick's neck, just below his hairline, so Harry touches him there, too, running his lips over the knob of Nick's spine in an almost-kiss.

He hasn't even opened his eyes yet, not wanting to let go of the cozy feel of the morning to face the rest of the day and the talk they're going to have to have. 

Harry combs his fingers through Nick's chest hair, over his nipples, down his stomach and finally to his half-hard cock. Nick stirs a bit as Harry takes him into his hand and starts stroking him slowly. His own dick is getting hard as Nick presses closer. 

Even as they both get louder and more desperate, Harry never speeds up the pace, trying to draw the morning out as long as possible. They both come before they've even said good morning, Harry first, just from the friction of Nick against him and the knowledge that they've finally done it, they're _here_. Nick lets out a long breath and spills over Harry's hand shortly after, and only grumbles a tiny bit when Harry wipes his hand on Nick's shirt. 

Harry will put the washing on later. Right now, the possibility for a bit more sleep is inviting, so he lets himself be swept away.

~*~ 

They have coffee in the living room, on opposite sides of the sofa, but facing each other, legs woven together between them. Harry's going through his emails and looking at the schedule for the rest of the week. He's in the middle of writing a note to Rachel to cancel his flight (but keep Lara's upgrade) when Nick clears his throat.

"So." He hesitates and turns his mug around in his hands. "What happens after the new year?" 

Harry's been too busy focusing on the last two months, and if he's honest, the last eighteen hours, to think that far ahead. "What?"

Nick shrugs, trying to be casual, though his face says that this conversation is anything but. "You said you'd cleared your schedule to be here through the new year. What about after? Are we on a deadline? Your business is based in Los Angeles." 

"And there's no such thing as planes anymore?" 

"I'm being serious." He's frowning, so Harry carefully sets both their mugs on the coffee table and walks over to Nick's side of the sofa so he can straddle his hips and kiss him. He's smiling again by the time Harry's finished, that soft small smile that Harry adores so much. He traces over it with his fingers. 

"So am I." Harry grabs his tablet and flips through his emails to the one he'd got from Jeff last week, outlining the new plan, and flips the screen so Nick can read it. "We've been working on this for a few weeks. It's time for me to move home. I'll probably have to go back every month or so, but I think we can do most everything remotely." 

Nick pulls him close and kisses him again. "Sure of yourself, are we, Styles?" 

"With you? Always." 

"You can use all those miles to take us on holiday somewhere." 

He bites at Nick's neck. "Anywhere you want." 

Harry's just about to dig his hand down between them and into Nick's pants when there's footsteps on the stairs. He stills, but doesn't move away. Nick's fingers tighten on his hips, but he doesn't move either. 

"Well that's a nice view," Lara says, rubbing her eyes. "Any coffee left?" 

"Didn't know you were home," Harry says, climbing off Nick with a last soft kiss. "But I'll make more."

~*~ 

Both Nick and Harry ride along when Lara goes to the airport. She hadn't gone to a hotel, but she'd ended up being out most nights with Gemma. Harry's resolved to buy Gemma's entire Christmas list as a thank you. It had left time for Harry and Nick to get used to each other again; and with intent this time. Nick had brought lunch to the studio for Harry. Harry brought dinner to Radio 1 for Nick, and had spent not a small amount of time harassing Nick while he was on air.

He misses the old pulley system for the mics. 

Lara doesn't cry when they get to Heathrow, but her eyes are suspiciously damp when she pulls away from Harry. "We're gonna miss you back home." 

"Call me anytime," Harry says. 

And then after giving Nick a quick hug, she's gone. 

In the car on the way back, Harry rolls up the partition right away and throws his legs over Nick's lap. 

"Not very safe of you," Nick says, but he's smiling and nosing into Harry's neck so Harry's pretty sure he doesn't really mean it. 

Harry sings a few lines of _Partition_ into Nick's ear, and Nick laughs and holds him tighter. They're both a bit worked up by the time they get back to Harry's house. 

"Your room or mine?" Nick asks, backing Harry through the front door, careful not to trip over the bulldog statue. 

Harry really doesn't want to stop but he's got something important that he needs to say, if only Nick would stop nibbling on his neck. "About that." Nick stops, and Harry whines when he pulls back enough that there's some air between them. He doesn't like it. 

This was a really stupid time to have a serious discussion. 

Nick brushes his thumb over Harry's lips and he bites at it, wanting to shelve the discussion in favor of kissing Nick more. 

"What were you going to say?" 

"I just thought… I mean you already live here." Harry takes a deep breath and forces himself to focus on Nick's eyes. They're wide and bright and lovely, and having them so close is everything he's wanted for years. "Maybe we don't need separate bedrooms." 

Nick's hands tighten on Harry's arms, and Harry idly wonders if he'll be bruised tomorrow. He's always bruised pretty easily. They stand there for a while, and Harry shifts a bit on his feet. This isn't what he'd wanted to be doing now that they've got the house to themselves. 

"If you don't want to —" He looks away, over at the table where the red shattered glass candle holders are still out. They're catching some of the sun from the skylight and throwing off tiny bits of red light around. 

The light on the table is gorgeous, but when Nick reaches over to turn Harry's face to him, he goes easily, and finds that soft smile on Nick's face, which stays even after Nick kisses him slowly and softly, sliding his lips and tongue against Harry's until they're both a bit breathless. 

"I want to." 

On the way upstairs Harry darts into Nick's room to grab the condoms, and then ends up with Nick's shampoo and towel, the pictures he's set out on the bedside tables, and his phone charger. 

Nick laughs at him when he reappears, but Harry's too happy to care. He even takes an extra minute to set Nick's pictures up on on his side of the bed. _Their_ bed. 

"You're home now." 

Nick slides his hands around Harry's waist and rests his chin on Harry's shoulder. "I already was."

END.

**Author's Note:**

> **Tag notes:**
> 
> There are several allusions to a week about six years before the setting of this fic, where Nick and Harry both cheated on significant others with each other. There's also an incident in the current timeline involving Jeff and Harry, where Jeff's sort of started seeing something new, though that doesn't go beyond making out, and Harry stops it. 
> 
>  
> 
> **References:**
> 
> All references to the plan of Harry's house is from [this map](http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8LusyR9TQvA/UH2RsBjYRWI/AAAAAAAANFE/5K4TkrL0TjA/s1600/HStyles_Lon_FP.jpg), found by googling "Harry Styles London House." I can now feel like less of a creeper and close it.
> 
> The lodge Harry and Niall stay at in California is the [Lodge at Torrey Pines](http://www.lodgetorreypines.com/), just north of San Diego. It's attached to an [award-winning public golf course](http://www.sandiego.gov/park-and-recreation/golf/torreypines/) which has been host to the PGA Masters tour several times. There's two full courses right on a cliff over the ocean. It's a rather gorgeous area, if I do say so myself. The North Course is the easier one. 
> 
> The beach Harry takes Niall to is [Black's Beach](http://blacksbeach.org/).
> 
> Come find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/hllangel) and [tumblr](http://glitterbootsandyellowshorts.tumblr.com)


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